Last night a boy racer came roaring up our suburban street, realise it wasn’t where he had meant to go, did a screeching turn-round, and went roaring down again.
It reminded me how much I loath boy racing (whether it’s done by boys or girls, but let’s face it, it’s mostly done by boys). It’s an dreadful hobby which is at best an annoyance to everyone who isn’t participating in it, and at worst a danger to anyone in the vicinity, and an environmental nightmare.
We used to hear a lot of boy racers at night at our old place. The racing and roar of the engines. The screech and squeal of tires. Whenever they were out and about at night I would lie awake listening to the sounds, stressing.
So I developed a happy little fantasy about boy racing.
I would imagine the boy racers roaring down their favourite street. And then, one by one, the engines suddenly going quiet. Each car drifts to the side of the road, the confused drivers steering it to safety, putting on the breaks and pulling the hood-release catch.
The hood pops open.
The boy racer gets out of his car. Walks round to the front. Lifts the hood.
The contents explode out.
It’s all stuffed toys.
Every part is now a stuffed toy. Big ones for big parts, little ones for little parts. Teddy bears of all sizes. Stuffed tigers and foxes and bunnies and more. Cuddly little native animals like the zoo and museum gift shops sell. Hopefully even a Colossal Squid stuffed toy.
Nothing engine-shaped at all.
The boy racer picks up a stuffed toy. Looks at it in total confusion. Starts pulling out more stuffed toys, emptying the hood cavity, trying to find the engine.
But there is no engine.
Just stuffed toys.
And there was no more boy racing that night.
The boy racer could buy another engine. Fill that cavity with metal and grease and petrol and rubber.
But every time he broke the speed limit…
Every time he did a burnout…
Every time he had sustained loss of traction…
(and, since this is my fantasy, and you can have anything you want in a fantasy:
- no-one was ever injured when their engine turned into soft toys. They always just slowed nicely and gradually and drifted to a safe spot.
- all the stuff toys were made from totally organic, environmentally friendly materials.
- all the stuffed toys went to deserving children.
- if there was an excess of soft toys, they would turn out to be as easy to compost as one of the mushrooms that grows round the edge of my yard after a few days of good rain.
Since I have no images to illustrate this dream (but wouldn’t they be amazing? Just imagine them….) here are some gratuitously cute Felicity photos from the last few weeks: