One of the neighbours down the street from me has one of those souped-up Commodores. Bright red, low to the ground, and with a rear spoiler (or “bum enhancement” as Marita calls them).
Unlike one of those stupid grunty cars, I can’t hear it from inside my house, but still makes a noticeable amount of noise if I’m walking past at the time.
In fact when I see him slowly moving down the street towards the main road, it reminds me a little of a jet taxiing for take-off, particularly as when he’s going to work he tends to wear a shirt and tie and a Bluetooth mobile device in his ear, so he looks a little like a pilot.
I wonder if he’s saying to his kids (when they’re in there with him) that they should ensure their seats are upright, and seatbelts on, and asking his wife in the passenger seat to point out the exits and “arm doors and cross-check“.
I’m sure he’s not the only one who chooses to drive markedly slower than the 50 speed limit in his own street. It seems to be a common side street thing — some kind of indefinable respect for one’s neighbours and neighbourhood. It’s not universal though; some people few doors up in the other direction regularly fire up their stupid grunty car and roar off somewhere at 10pm-ish.