Apparently one of the neighbors five houses down and across the street has a buddy who likes heavy bass. A buddy who doesn’t turn down the volume while talking to the neighbor for ten minutes solid. My insides shudder in a near-rhythmic pattern, not quite enough to be uncomfortable, but easily enough to be annoying.
This is annoying in and of itself, but what really annoys me is the fact that when I went outside to locate the source of the sensation I could hear the trunk rattling. Even more pathetic than the desire to let everyone in a half-mile radius know what you are listening to, is the lack of quality when doing it. How hard is it to mount a subwoofer properly and secure the trunk lid to ensure that your precious music isn’t marred by the dull metallic rattle of your car falling apart?
Personally, if I was trying to make a musical statement, or just listening to my tunes really loud I would be embarrassed by a half-done job. I almost walked over there to explain the concept of “quality” to the guy, but decided to leave it well enough alone.