MOTORS:Their stereo systems are louder than some nightclubs and their exhausts sound like jet engines, but the growing number of people who modify their cars for cruising are seeking to change the public perception of their hobby, writes Bryan Coll
NEIL GRAHAM ISN'T taking any risks. To help win the prize for the loudest stereo at Cruise Control in Killyleagh, Co Down, the 23-year-old has enlisted four burly friends to press their full weight against the doors of his Peugeot 306. He hopes the tight seal will prevent sound escaping through the doors. As Graham blasts low, thudding dance music through his £6,000 speakers, the judge's sensor registers 145 decibels. It secures Graham first place and sends the contents of a nearby family picnic bouncing off their tartan blanket.
Cruising has never been more popular in Ireland. Every weekend, hundreds of "suped-up" car drivers meet in car parks across the country to parade their modified motors. Most cruises are arranged on the internet through dedicated forums or on social networking sites such as Bebo. Cruise Control is one of the headline events on the North's fast-growing cruising scene and brings members of rival cruise websites together for a public show each year.
Today, more than 250 vehicles will compete for prestigious titles such as Best Interior, Best Girl's Car and Shiniest Car. A quick glance at the sea of fluorescent paint, oversized exhausts and alloy wheels suggests the latter will be the toughest crown to win. Already gleaming in the afternoon sun, the cars are being lovingly tended by their owners, car wax and towels in hand. Drivers with added bravado display racy photo spreads of their own cars from industry magazines to entice the crowds of spectators.
For Graham, who funded his prize-winning speakers with bank loans and two maxed-out credit cards, cruising is not simply a pastime, but a lifestyle. He spends most of his free time with other cruisers and says he has made most of his friends from cruising websites. "It can be hard to explain to other people why you do it," he says, before offering up a comparison. "Some people are into horse racing and they would spend thousands to help their horse become the best. I suppose we do the same with cars."
Tucked away in the last display stand of the upper car park, Gary Brennan is as far from the competition judges as possible. Despite a life-long interest in modified cars, Cruise Control is his first public show and he's suffering from a mild bout of stage fright. "I didn't buy it to show off," he says, gesturing towards the scores of onlookers filming his Nissan Skyline GTR on their mobile phones. "I just bought it for myself."
The assembled crowd soon trebles in size as Brennan's friend jumps into the driver's seat, turns on the ignition, and sends a loud, throaty purr booming across the car park. "You spend fortunes on these cars so it's nice to come to an event like this and see that you're not the only one."
After several years working in Irish bars in Tokyo, the 31-year-old developed a fascination for Japanese cars. He bought and modified his second-hand Skyline in Japan before importing it to Northern Ireland at a total cost of more than £40,000. "If you want something bad enough, it doesn't matter how much it costs," says Brennan, who manages a pound shop in Belfast city centre.
Extravagance may seem de rigueur in the cruising fraternity, but for the drivers at Cruise Control, it is attention to detail that separates the true enthusiasts from the wannabes. Most of the Volkswagens and Audis, for example, have faux-German number plates, with a "D" for Deutschland accompanying the cars' Northern registrations.
Brennan has kept the original Japanese number plate and tax disc of his Nissan Skyline, not simply as proof of his car's pedigree, but also as potential investments. Japanese memorabilia is highly sought after in cruising circles, with authentic tax discs commanding handsome prices on internet auction sites. "I know lots of Irish people who actually keep Japanese coins in their cars just for that extra touch," says Brennan. "I know it sounds sad, but we're just crazy about this."
Most weeks, Brennan and his Japanese wife Junko attend night cruises in the car park of Belfast's main ferry terminal. The meetings are organised by the online cruising forum CruisNIg and they regularly attract more than 100 cars. Brennan shrugs off the boy racer tag, claiming that modified cars are an unrecognised art form. "It's easy to criticise our lifestyle but, for me, taking an old car and transforming it into something beautiful is a creative art. It deserves a lot of respect."
Amid the more studious atmosphere of the Ford corner at Cruise Control, Niall Brown is polishing the rear spoiler of his Sierra Cosworth. Modifying the 1987 model has been an 18-year-long labour of love for the property manager, who has spent about £50,000 (€63,000) on a 550 horsepower engine, new brakes, fuel system and suspension. Brown holds up a new set of wheel nuts, the fruits of his latest online spending spree, which are due to be added in the next few weeks. Having invested so much to achieve his motoring dream, does he ever worry about crashing? Brown looks horrified at the suggestion. "She almost never goes out on the road," he says, looking around nervously before lowering his voice. "I actually drive an ordinary Clio most days."
The 42-year-old occasionally attends evening cruises, but admits that he has largely outgrown the scene. "I'd like to think of myself as the respectful face of cruising," he says with a grin, while posing for mobile phone photographs.
The following evening, the more controversial face of cruising is out in force in Bangor town centre, as members of the Bangor Cruise online forum meet for their weekly night-time cruise. Membership of the website has more than doubled in the past three years and currently stands at 1,700. Long-time site member Bob Kennedy says the internet has been the main reason for the club's growth and for the boom in cruising across Ireland. "People used to be quite secretive about cruising because it was always frowned upon," he says. "But on sites like Bebo, people publicise their hobbies and interests and that gets others interested as well."
The location for Bangor Cruise's weekly get-togethers is a large car park opposite the town's bus depot, overlooked by the local police station. From 9pm onwards (the cruise starts as soon as Top Gear finishes on BBC2), a steady stream of vehicles descends on the town centre. The cars form a conga line of spoilers, neon under-lighting and tinted windows with revs, loud exhausts and occasional blasts of dance music filling the warm evening air.
Once parked, the drivers - aged 18 to early 30s - leave their vehicles to join their fellow cruisers on a large grassy bank for a drink and a chat. The strongest tipple on offer is 7-Up. Simon Bibby, a veteran of the local cruising scene, recalls the early days of secret meetings in Newcastle and Belfast, where cruisers were chased from car parks by the police and, on occasion, by paramilitary groups: "There was a real sense of danger back then and of being part of this underground community," he says. "Today, cruising is a lot more mainstream and people are slightly more tolerant of us."
The conversation suddenly tails off as a police car pulls up beside the car park. Remaining stationary for a few seconds, it soon moves off and does not appear again for the rest of the evening. "The PSNI know we're making more of an effort now," says 24-year-old cruiser Bob Kennedy, whose father is a policeman. "We get a lot less hassle than we used to."
Changing public perceptions of cruising is one of the most pressing concerns for Bangor's young drivers, and the topic pops up continually in Sunday night's car-side chats. "We're quite happy for the police to catch the speeders and the idiots doing handbrake turns late at night," says Kennedy. "It's those guys who give the rest of us a bad name."
One of only a handful of female drivers present on Sunday night, 18-year-old Claire Livingstone is a recent cruising convert. She is currently saving up to buy a Volkswagen Lupo, which she plans to modify fully. "You can't just do one thing to a car. Once you start, you have to keep adding things. It's really addictive."
Livingstone has come in a friend's car to tonight's cruise, having recently crashed her Suzuki Swift, "because of stupidity, not speed". "Girl or boy racers are just stereotypes," she says. "Some of the people here are accountants and architects. Those aren't the kind of jobs most people would expect modified car drivers to have."
As Livingstone defends the cruising cause, one of her fellow female drivers is taking a familiar-sounding ribbing. The jaunty angle of a parked Daihatsu hasn't escaped the attention of the male cruisers and a slew of woman driver jokes soon follows. Cruisers might be the young, modern face of Irish motoring, but old attitudes, it seems, still die hard.