It has arrived, oh feeble ones, the time for my automobile to barrel through your vicinity and announce my prowess—my vital and irrefutable masculinity. How is it that you know of my unquestioned and eternal virility? I have a vehicle that goes vroom vroom!
Oh, how I pity you, you mite of a human, sitting there in silence, with no engine to rev. How you must want for power, that which I possess. The power to irritate everyone within a two-mile radius. This sound that emanates from my swift movement, this amplified mechanical sputtering, exclaims to all my undisputed vigor.
Cast all of your attention in my direction and recognize my ironclad manliness, that which is made clear by my ability to have my car’s muffler removed. Were you contemplating the beauty of the mountains? Perhaps you may have been admiring the nimble rhythm of a butterfly’s wings? Well, now you can consider the din of this machine that I own and how it is a manifestation of my infinite potency.
Throughout the ages, philosophers have pondered immortality. How might we outlast the corporeal limits of human frailty? Friend, I have tasted that ambrosia. That nectar of everlasting youth and strength. It is forcing every living creature in your neighborhood to be aware, if only for thirty seconds, that I am male and I can drive twenty miles over the speed limit.
My need to awaken you at 3 AM on a Tuesday is in no way a reflection of a gaping emptiness deep within the core of my being. I am definitely not running from the precarity and meaninglessness of existence that creeps along the edges of my consciousness. The nebulousness of identity and all its components — gender, age, sexuality, status — are not haunting me in my desperate need to cling to something that feels real and certain. My car goes fast and zooms so loud. And it’s red! What could be a more archetypal affirmation of my permanence in this universe?
And now, like a child steering his Hot Wheels on a plastic track, I will veer away and bid you adieu, leaving you in your effeminate and pathetic quietude. Until next time, you paltry and muted mollusk. We will meet again when I pierce your soft underbelly with the penetrating force of my motor’s noise. Well, it’s almost mine anyway. Only 27 payments left. I had to take out a bigger loan since my premiums are so high on account of my red car.