Local motor enthusiast, Mark Doyle, is hopeful his “Bring Cruising Back” initiative will revive the once-thriving and legendary boy racer scene of Arklow. Mark can be witnessed driving his Toyota GT Starlet from Hills roundabout to Knockmore roundabout 24 hours a day, seven days a week. The lighting modifications installed on his car (visible from the International Space Station) aim to act as a beacon to inspire new and old racers to “take dese streets back.”
“Ah, Jaysus back when The Fast and The Furious was da dogs bollix; the town was only humming with all the cars going around. Me and me mates dropped out of school and did a 6-week FAS course, next thing we know we were fully qualified sparkies and plumbers. I failed Junior Cert foundation maths, and now here I was deciding which wires were neutral and which were live, to be honest, I still don’t fuckin know! There were some deaths involved, but who fuckin cared, I was getting the grand in the hand a week boiiiiiii. With all the cash we had nothin else to do but blow it all on coke and cars, dem bitches came last lad, always.”
“Ah, Jaysus back when The Fast and The Furious was da dogs bollix; the town was only humming with all the cars going around. Me and me mates dropped out of school and did a 6-week FAS course, next thing we know we were fully qualified sparkies and plumbers. I failed Junior Cert foundation maths, and now here I was deciding which wires were neutral and which were live, to be honest, I still don’t fuckin know! There were some deaths involved, but who fuckin cared, I was getting the grand in the hand a week boiiiiiii. With all the cash we had nothin else to do but blow it all on coke and cars, dem bitches came last lad, always.”
I queried Mark’s motivation for a desire to return to this perceived ‘golden age’ of motoring, arguing that the movement was merely an exhibition in crass materialism, whilst also considered an eye and ear sore for many locals. I also highlighted the environmental issues of consuming 50 euro worth of petrol a night, particularly within the context of the acceleration of the Anthropocene epoch.
“Well, I’m back living at home now again bored off me tits. Me ex kicked me outta the mickey money gaff and her and the kids want nothin to do me. I taught she would mad up for bringing da cruise back since she was knocked up for all three of the chaps in the back seat of me Starlet. I chip in with 20 euro a week outta me dole for food for the kids but the rest is mine boi. I’ll have nothing like the last time round to spend, so all I did was buy a cheap 95 starlet on the Vale Road and drill 76 holes in the exhaust, now I can be heard from anywhere in the tooooowwwwnnnn, and even Courtown on a cold night, yahoo!!!! She is only a one litre so she is easy on the aul fuel for the polar bears, no worries dere lad. Six CD changer in the boot too for dem slick beats, still have me hard house anthems so saved a few quid dere.”
Following Mark from a safe distance on his first night’s “cruise”, it was soon apparent that his earsplitting exhaust pipe was not acting as the bugle call he had wished for. A solitary juvenile did follow him on his e-scooter whilst capturing the procession on his camera phone.
“Fukin snakes boi, texted me dat de would show, all great lads now with dere jobs and families now, tinkin dey are better than me. I still live me life a quarter of a mile at a time! Snaaaaaaaaaaaakes boi”, Mark angrily bellowed whilst kicking the dangling wind mirror of his car.
Later on that night, in an attempt to perform what is known in the industry as a “doughnut”, Mark lost control of his car, colliding with the now disused Kentucky Fried Chicken restaurant, and tragically wrapping his head around the iconic Colonel Sanders signpost. In a cruel twist of irony, the fast-food outlet was once a favourite haunt of Mark’s, dying as he lived, with KFC propelled into his face. A funeral mass will be held by Father File this Sunday. followed by private cremation at the recycling centre
