Driving a New Car

Special thanks to David Lips from Western Massachusetts for today's That's Not Metal violation. Also, another big thanks to Mike and Seth for the photo! As always, if you have an idea for me to write about, or photos of stuff that is or isn't metal, head on over to the Facebook page and post away! If I like what you post, I might just use it here on the blog. I'll also publicly oust your metalcore-loving friend as a homosexual as an added bonus to you. Think of the weight that would be lifted off his shoulders after all those years of denial...

There must be a sale going on... 

As a metalhead, you have a lot of priorities when it comes to spending your limited finances: top quality instruments and amplifiers, concert tickets, alcoholic beverages, band merch, hair conditioner, or if you're like me, condoms... lots of condoms. Reliable transportation doesn't really fit within your budget as a true-blooded defender of the faith.

Buying a new car is so not metal. It is one of the least metal things that somebody could do. It is totally corporate and bullshitty to own and drive a brand new motor vehicle. The last show I went to, some smug wannabe pulled out of the venue parking lot zipping around in a shiny black 2010 Volvo, and after I got over my very brief, denied feelings of jealousy, I was all "fuck that guy." He sucks and he doesn't even know it. I mean, what job would he even have looking like that to afford that car he was in? Other than the long-term career of being a kid with rich parents, of course. If you drive a brand new, off-the-lot vehicle, it means somebody owns you, whether it be daddy morebucks or capitalism.   

However, we metal fans are nomadic in nature, much like our ancient viking ancestors. We have to get around somehow, that's just the facts. You live in some suburban shit hole 30 minutes away from anything. (How else would you explain your restless, pent-up aggression?) Your favorite blackened death metal group only plays shows in state capitals, because these are the only cities they've heard of. You need a set of engine-propelled wheels to carry you there, and preferably a contraption to steer them. Unless you want somebody else to drive you around for the rest of your life, you need to get yourself some working wheels. Like I explained earlier, your finances are limited, and you got better things to spend your cash on. Here are some guidelines to consider when making a true metal vehicle purchase:

• Try and keep your total cost under four figures. Here's some Brenocide history for you: my first car was $50. They wanted to just get rid of it for nothing, but I decided a working motor vehicle was a fair trade for a dinner at Outback Steakhouse. 
• Rust damage can be covered with a lot of bumper stickers. The back of your car should look a lot like the guitar Jeff Hanneman played in the 80's. Although if I see you with a "COEXIST" bumper sticker, expect me to rear-end you. 
• Working AC is for pussies. What was that? You need operable climate control for your luxury and comfort? What time next week should we schedule your manicure, princess?
• It doesn't have to smell right. I mean, look who's gonna be driving it.
• If it plays CD's, it might as well be a Bentley. If you have the option to drive around listening to true metal to your heart's content, you have the highest form of luxury possible. 
• If it moves, you don't need to fix it. Funny noises aren't much of an issue when you can't hear them over loud music. 

Since you listen to better music than everybody else, it's only safe to assume that you're smarter than everybody else too. A car is a big set of chairs that moves you and your drunken pals to your destination, and not much more than that. An 8-cylinder, turbo-charged hot rod doesn't mean a whole lot when there's such a thing as a speed limit. You don't want to get pulled over man, look at you. Cops have this thing they made up called "reasonable suspicion" that allows them to joyfully finger around your cornhole and fondle your nuts just because you look a little sketchy. I don't know about you, but I like my cornhole just fine being unfingered, and my boys unfondled. 

Don't let the poor aesthetics, the shaky power train, or the lack of impressed members of the opposite sex get to you. A beaten, weathered car has its own charm and character to it, much like a scratched up vintage guitar. It tells people a story; that you've been places, seen things, or that you're likely to be a potential sex criminal.