What Your Car Stereo Says About You

Image via Complex Original

Deep down inside, I want to upgrade. I really do. But people/my wife say I’m too old for that kind of stuff, so I don’t. I believe them because the car’s a lease and I secretly enjoy the steering wheel controls more than the possibility of actually enjoying the music.

I’m very protective of anything in or outside my car—especially when everything inside my car is worth more than my entire car. I require a release form to be signed if you wish to adjust your seat, roll down your window, or have an opinion on my “mods.” Just be happy I picked you up; I usually like to let my freshly Febreezed seat settle in for at least 72 hours before allowing human contact.

I care more about my devices than I do about my car audio situation. Sure, the 3.5mm-to-3.5mm cable is bulky, unsightly, and completely unnecessary in this digital age, but have you see how many gigs my phone/MP3/video/idiot machine can hold? On a completely (almost) unrelated note, I’ve got an extra coffee grinder and automatic beard trimmer in the trunk if you’re interested. I got them from an airplane gadget magazine, so you know they’re legit.

You don’t know where to get the technology I get, and frankly, let’s keep it that way. I got a guy downtown who knows a guy uptown whose uncle lives in midtown five years from now. That hoverboard from that movie we all loved? I got it for my first birthday from the creator of that movie. But here’s the kicker, I was born before he was.

I have a high-paying job that I fell into, so I buy stuff that makes me look “boss-y.” Anyways, I’m trying to attract people who like hip-hop music into my circle of friends, and the only way I know how is to “flex my steezo” with “flossed out” stuff. Tweet at me in the forums, my handle is @InternetHotBoyz81.

I rock Wallys, push a ’92 Prelude, and regularly flex on fools. I got that limo tint because I love the game and hate the man. If it wasn’t produced between 1992-96, it’s not playing in my ride.  In fact, if it’s not a compact disc pressed between 1992-96, it ain’t real music. That’s called “half-stepping,” and that ain’t cool, my dude.

I’ve got two spoilers: one for the wind-resistance and one for the ladies. “Ground EFX” is literally my middle name. Every winter I raise my whip just so every summer I can re-slam it to the floor. Cat-back exhaust with dualies made into quaddies? Please. Try quintuplies.

I was taught to always make the best of every situation. That’s why I carry an engagement ring with me on all my dates and secretly plug my mom’s number into their phones. You know, so she’s never too far away. Like the old saying goes, “If you can’t love the one you’re with, jack the treble on the one you got.”

I am the founder and president of New Brunswick, N.J.’s Movie Theater Machines Club. I have a DVD and Blu-ray in my glove box, and a LaserDisc in the trunk for when my parents borrow my car. (It’s their car.) I’m also an usher at my local movie theater so I can get advance copies of new films in case you’re interested in maybe going on a really neat date with m...oh, yeah I was kidding anyways.

I built my own tree forts as a kid. Well, until the courts ruled that seven year olds shouldn’t own and/or operate commercial-grade band saws. I firmly believe that a soldering iron can fix almost anything. I’ve been crowned the “Handiest Handyman” in my cul-de-sac for the past nine years. I’m hoping to continue that reign in a dead-end of my own whenever I decide to leave my parents’ basement. No rush, though. I won’t be 40 for a couple years.