let that be your battlefield

Before I got married, bought a house, and assumed all the related financial responsibilities of an “adult,” I had modest plans to transform Super Lumina from a staid family sedan into something a little more slick-looking. Nothing too ostentatious – a low key spoiler, a new paint job (burnished gold), and maybe some interior strip lighting. A nice dream, but lack of funds aside, it would have been a bigger hassle than it was worth. The problem with having a showy car is that you spend every waking minute worrying about the inevitable pits, dings, and scratches than vehicle will acquire through the attrition of daily use. I’ve grown to care less about Super Lumina’s minor cosmetic issues, and have instead focused on keeping what’s under her hood in perfect working order.

Now that I’m within two months of paying off the car loan, though, I’ve started thinking about ways to use that freed up cash to make needed improvements. They are all based in functionality rather than appearance, and largely inspired by the stretch of Interstate 93 north between the Columbia Road ramp and the Massachusetts Turnpike, where the rules of the road have devolved into mild guidelines to be freely ignored. (“Wait until the last possible moment to cross three lanes of traffic to the exit? Sounds like a plan! No need to interrupt my text messaging to flip my turn signal on!”)

With those road conditions in mind, here is my current list of desired modifications for Super Lumina:

- twin-linked liquid-cooled hood-mounted chainguns: They don't even need to be that powerful, just able to penetrate fiberglass and sheet metal. They should also have a forced ammo feed capable of automatically clearing most jams.

- rear-mounted “smart” caltrop dispenser: The caltrops would resemble ball bearings and only spike up when driven over by a specifically designated target in order to avoid collateral damage.

- a titanium-steel bulldozer blade: This may require reinforcing Super Lumina’s underbody so that it can properly handle the stress of impact, and minimize the risk of damage to the engine.

- a sunroof cupola with pintle-mounted machinegun: Because in our house, road rage is a couple’s activity. This would give my intrepid wife/co-pilot a chance to vent her spleen. Outside of combat, it would function as a excellent vantage point from which to assess traffic conditions should we be stuck behind a two-story tall SUV.

- hubcap-mounted spikes and blades: Intended more for the intimidation factor than for actual use, they would hopefully deter those folks unwilling or unable to keep their damn vehicles within the marked lane boundaries.

- trunk-mounted adjustable reflector screen: I don’t know why everyone these days feels the need to have their highbeams on 24/7, and I don’t care to hear their reasons for it. This slick innovation is designed to give those inconsiderate jerks a taste of their own medicine by reflecting the blinding glare back into their eyes.

- cell jammer-screamer: a powerful short-range transmitter which broadcasts an earsplitting 200-decible white noise shriek across the entire cell phone frequency band. “Have I got your attention? Good! Now pay attention to the road, asswipe.”

- a custom-fitted stereo-system with mp3 CD capability and a dock for most digital music players: It can’t all be about road rage, OK?

Ministry – Jesus Built My Hotrod (from Psalm 69, 1992) – Or it was assembled at a GM plant in Ontario. I can’t really remember now.

Adam and The Ants – Cartrouble (from Dirk Wears White Sox, 1979) – My trouble is with everyone else on the road.

Jane Wiedlin – Rush Hour (from Fur, 1988) – It used to be that if we got on the highway at 9:15 AM of thereabouts, it would be clear sailing all the way to Dorchester…until the building boom came along. Now the highways are thick with New Hampshire-dwelling expatriates from the Bay State who continue to work in Massachusetts and create fifteen mile long traffic jams.