Just now I looked out my window to see a car hooning off with a police car in tow. That's the second time I've seen this here, although the first time it was a motorbike. In tonight's episode, the police car seemed to give up and slow down as it went away from my place... not much chance chasing a turbo-powered car in a Toyota Echo. Yes, the police cars here tend to lack street-cred. Although I did see a glossy mook (a deluxe magazine - halfway to being a book, hence the term, mook... a bit catchier than a bagazine) on special police vehicles and they featured some high-powered sportscars along with some armoured tanks (I'm yet to see any riots here). But yeah, your average garden-variety police car here is pretty impotent. But enough about the cars, more to the point... where's the respect?

At the risk of sounding like a royal old fart, what's happened to the youth of today? That's often a stupid comment that forgets all the antics that every generation gets up to, but I guess here in super-wa's-ville Japan (wa is the harmony that society here attains to - toe the line, you know... know your place, don't make waves in the social pond etc.), anti-social behaviour tends to stick out like the proverbial sore thumb. I can't imagine guys openly defying the law here like that, say 20 years ago... but then again, I wasn't here, was I? Society here seems very compartmentalised - as my friend Mark puts it, ethics or notions of morality are situational - if it's in the right context, it's acceptable, if not, it ain't. If you wear a suit and tie you have a right to be drunk on the train. If you're in soiled track pants and sneakers, nah-uh. If you go with your boyfriend/girlfiend to a love hotel, that's noone's business (except, of course, the love hotel's), just don't bring shame on your families by being seen. Appearances are everything.

Maybe it's like wearing your swimmers into a shop in Australia. If you're by the beach noone thinks twice, but if not, you're an exhibitionist, or just a bit fruity. That kind of principle is at work here, but in many more spheres, I reckon. One sphere that's hard to apply strictures to is the moving variety - i.e. the car. Because you are mobile and most likely away from those who know you, there is a lack of accountability and, therefore, perceived social obligation. Perhaps the car is seen as a vehicle to escape social pressure. "This is my space, my bubble - I'm gonna do whatever the heck I like in it" (regardless of where that heavy, fast-moving, metal bubble is hurtling). That's my theory. There is more of an etiquette here to driving (e.g. people nearly always dip their headlights when stopped at traffic lights as a courtesy to others i.e. not blinding oncoming drivers), but on the flipside there seems to be more extreme expressions of non-conformity. In Kyoto once I saw a heroic chap plough his way through a major intersection, pedestrians, red lights and all, by revving his engine at everyone and just doing as he pleased, going on his merry way. I was stunned. Then there was the bosozoku guy I saw in Umeda (Osaka) on his motorbike. He was slowly crawling along the street, sitting bolt-upright, proudly looking everyone squarely in the eye as he revved the soot out of his engine in machine-gun bursts of horrible sound. It didn't even sound impressive as an engine, but he was obviously a committed biker, devoted to the noise-making cause. And this guy was on his own - no mates to impress, just the public. And, I should add, he was no pimple-faced adolescent - more like late 20s, early 30's I'd say. Interesting pasttime. Do people here really feel that overlooked? "Love me. Hate me. Just... notice me."

A lot of young guys' cars here seem to be tuned for maximum noise. Again, you see some very umimpressive engines hooked up to ridiculous exhaust systems that create this weak sounding, but high-decibel pollution. Knowing how un-soundproofed Japanese dwellings are and how-over-worked a lot of their inhabitants are, driving around like that in the dead of night just seems a low act. But, far from claiming to be pure as the driven snow, I must admit I sometimes fantasise about getting one of those large BB guns and shooting at offenders from my back window. I guess I have issues of my own.

Well, to cap this weird, long-winded and fairly pointless offering, I should in fairness relay another episode. One night I heard this raucous sound coming my way. It sounded as though someone was riding a large jack-hammer as a pogo-stick at reasonable speed down the slope that curves around the back of my place to the level-crossing out the front. I was like "what the blazes is that!? What new breed of moron is driving what moronic vehicle past my place at 1:30am?" It sounded like a truck with no muffler, or the dak-dak of a VW on steroids - raw combustion! I opened my window and stuck my head out to see a heavily modified van - massive protrusions to the front and back, wings about 2 metres long coming off the roof with blue lights running up the sides. Stupidly flared guards, framing big tyres wrapped around deep-dish shiny silver wheels. You could believe a team of superheroes like the Power-rangers were inside, triangulating co-ordinates for their next drop-off point. I went to the front of my apartment and from my front door watched the guy creep his van over the railway tracks, straddling at an angle to avoid losing any precious duco, or worse, fibreglass from his art-truck. I watched in silent admiration at this dedicated soul. "You're my hero", I thought. What do his in-laws think? (Yes, a lot of these guys do have families. I hope I can find a girl as understanding!).

So, you see, I have some double-standards. The cars that annoy me late at night are often the type I look at in magazines. Most cars I like tend to be driven by people I dislike. Guys that are more into being seen and heard than they are into their actual cars. Or, they're so into their cars that other people are just speed-humps. But seeing one of those vans right outside my place was surreal. I was in awe. "All is forgiven," I thought as he chugged away into the night... not long after being followed stealthily by a black and white Echo - the local constabulary. Not everyone's a fan, I guess. Or then again, maybe they were.