The fine folks at MADD have spent a fortune trying to figure out why drinking and driving is such a huge problem. They should have just asked me. It is because nowhere else does music blaring out of some fine quality speakers sound better than when you are loaded like a Columbian drug mule with your foot on the pedal and the road disappearing under your feet in your own personal escape pod.
How many stories have you read in your local paper about . . . "an incident last night on the freeway where the arresting officer became suspicious because the vehicle was doing 94 MPH and, when asked specific questions, the three detainees had quite different stories about their destination. A search of the car revealed 3 kilos of high-quality cocaine with a street value of (your local going price)." And you think to yourself, "I think if I was trafficking 3 kilos of really good coke, I'd do something close to the speed limit." But you would have failed to factor in the event of (insert your current favorite song) coming on the radio just about 45 seconds before the speed trap radar lit up the heretofore bouncing Bonneville.
How many times have you started your car in the morning after coming home maybe a little too late the night before and the speakers blast you into the realization that you had been listening to music on +30 when +15 might be as loud as it needs to be? At that instant, you might look into the rear view mirror to see yourself with a sort of panicked look on your face, frantically searching for the volume knob like a lemur in mid-air lurching for the nearest limb.
Yes, when you see those old black and white photos of the Model T's and the dirt roads, you can rightfully imagine a dead chicken in front of a shotgun shack as the most likely casualty. But with Bose sound systems and the possibilities of damn near airborne speeds, it would be hard to calculate how many people have been killed or maimed by a hot guitar lick.