HAVATUNES

I was sitting at Highway 95 and Industrial Boulevard the other evening, when this young guy rolled up next to me with his stereo turned up to “Warp One” plus some. It wouldn’t have been so bad if the car had good quality speakers, which the Nissan Sentra didn’t.

His whole vehicle was rattling and vibrating from cheap tinny speakers, making things sound like a satanic death march. It was way beyond horrible.

Each time the bass boomed, I waited for a window to burst. Unfortunately, that never happened. Whatever music he was playing was lost to my ears. Rock, rap, country, soul, south of the border reggae, I couldn’t tell? One of the first things going through my mind: there must be a lot of loose nuts and bolts on that ride and not just the driver.

I’ve had to deal with overly loud music for the majority of my life as have most older folks still having working ears. Why anyone has to turn their volume up to enormous levels isn’t clear to me, yet I don’t waste valuable time analyzing such trivial things. It is what it is and I’m sure will continue once I’m dead and gone.

Back in my day, the guys I hung around with were more in tune with how cool their cars and trucks sounded, not how loud their 8-track stereos would play out an open window. There were a few squirrels doing such, with us thinking that was a geeky or nerdy thing to do, almost as bad as motorcyclists driving around town having their radios turned up full blast. “Hey, look at me!,” immediately comes to mind whenever I see these clowns.

Simply said though—I suppose those folks are merely trying to show off their sound systems. The guy at this stoplight definitely didn’t have anything to brag about.

Walking the channel at Rotary Park over Fourth of July weekend I had to chuckle. Not just one person was blasting their music, but it seemed everyone had their units turned up. When you combine rock, rap, country, soul, and south of the border reggae, it’s unlike anything you’ll ever hear. The word “Havatunes” sounds appropriate.

There was another older gentleman sitting on a bench, with me stopping and talking to him about that very subject for several minutes. We both found great humor in what we heard and saw.

Years ago, I was working in an auto parts store owned by my late father. Directly above the store was several apartments. One young fellow, an Army soldier, would constantly turn his stereo up to the point where we couldn’t hear customers. As store manager, I’d go up and politely ask him to tone things down, and he’d always oblige.

One Saturday morning, the apartment renter had things cranked to the max, with me heading up the stairs once again, but this time getting no answer at his door. The guy was evidently three sheets to the wind from partying the night before, and oblivious to anything happening around him that morning and the rest of the day.

Remembering that the main breaker to all of those apartments was in our storeroom—I started turning breakers on and off until hitting the right one. The rest of that morning and afternoon was most peaceful.

Before locking up and going home, another employee reminded me that I’d shut the fellow’s electricity off. This was like seven hours later. Walking back to the breaker box, I quickly flipped the switch hearing an enormous “POP” and then silence. I didn’t know what it was, but my co-worker Jerry Warren did, telling me that I’d just blown up the man’s bass speaker.

A couple of days later, this guy walked into the store telling us all about his experience. He didn’t know that I was the one responsible for his power being shut off, and I wasn’t about to fess up. The young enlisted soldier blamed the store he purchased his new high-dollar speakers from, claiming they sold him junk. From that point on, we could still hear his music at times, yet the sound was muffled and tinny, not clear and defined like it had been before.

I wish there’d been an outside switch on that Nissan the other evening like there was to that apartment, because I would’ve reached out my car window and gave it a quick off and on. On second thought—the way his speakers sounded—it appears someone already had.