Cars revved and zig-zagged and spun around the field. A red car seemed to be totally out of control as it careered sideways across the grass, passing too close for comfort. Some drivers and passengers were standing around, unfazed by what was happening around them. Would we be able to get out of the way in time? Miraculously, it slid to a halt without incident.
I caught up with them near Cill Dara Golf Club on the Curragh plains on Sunday. There were about 50 or so souped-up cars and, from what I could see, the drivers were all young men in their late teens and early 20s; a few of the passengers were girls. Some of them had already been to several other spots on the plains and near the race course in the Kildare area that day and had generated "lots of complaints", according to the Garda. It was about 6.30 p.m.; misty and dull, but still daylight. I parked and observed from a distance; watching such a secretive gathering felt neither safe nor comfortable.
A line of cars was parked on the brow of the incline with others "performing". After five minutes or so of action, the drivers re-grouped and were on their way with much revving and spinning. Someone suggested they had been "spooked" and were moving on to another location.
The experience was unsettling with undertones of aggression and power. Two things in particular were alarming - several of the cars were carrying passengers and all of them would be on public roads on their way home.
This was a "rolling cruise", moving from one location to another. Modifying or "maxing" their cars is cool, and attending "cruises" falls into the same category. Sunday's cruise had evolved in the aftermath of the Modified Car Exhibition in Goffs - the exhibition was a legitimate, organised affair but such events are Mecca for young male drivers who are in love with their cars and consider themselves immune from danger.
"A cruise is when we pick a venue like a car park or an open area like that," says Mark. "The cars all gather. You'd see them arriving all day and if the guards haven't realised that it's going on, the cars will gather round the outside facing inwards. The reason they're facing in is that cruises generally happen when it's dark and you can turn on the lights. Most of the lads will go round and look at the other lads' maxed cars and when it gets going, the lads will take turns going to the centre to do handbrakes, 'doughnuts' and burnouts."
Twenty-one-year-old Mark (not his real name) has been to several cruises but doesn't "perform" because his car isn't powerful enough and he'd be "completely laughed at". But for some young, male car drivers, they're still a cool thing to attend.
To translate, "maxing" the car is a process of customising it with spoilers, cool (read illegal) plates, rally-type seats and mats, and various other expensive, unnecessary and sometimes unsafe accessories. A "doughnut" involves locking the steering wheel and driving in circles as fast as possible; a "burnout" is, perhaps, the most frightening of all - car in gear, handbrake on and high revs until there's lots of smoke and the tyres eventually burst. If necessary, 10 or more people will physically hold the car back until burnout is achieved. It's not uncommon for cruisers intending to achieve burnout to travel with a spare set of wheels to make the journey home.
The gatherings of young car owners who are hyped up on power, control and invincibility, have been happening in Britain for more than five years and over the past three years, the phenomenon has spread to Ireland. Like raves at the height of their popularity, though involving smaller numbers of people, cruises are organised and advertised by word-of-mouth or on the Internet or, as in the case of last Sunday, can occur as a spin-off of an organised event.
The Garda is aware of the phenomenon and stop them when they can - but because of their nature, they don't always know when and where a cruise is taking place. They received complaints last Sunday, but made no arrests as they didn't witness the recklessness first-hand and complainants are seldom, if ever, prepared to press charges. On Sunday the complaints started between 5 a.m. and 6 a.m., with residents in the Kill area expressing concern about the behaviour of drivers on the dual carriageway. Later in the evening, there were complaints from the Newbridge area - one from an Iarnrod ╔ireann employee when the "cruisers" had gathered in the railway station car park.
Men and their cars. Boys and their toys. What do they think when they get behind the wheel? Why do they love their cars? Because love them they do.
Mark drives a Seat Ibiza. He bought it new in March 2000 and it cost him £10,000, plus £2,300 for insurance - he doesn't yet have a full licence. Since then, he has spent £2,500 on additions - maxing the car - and he isn't finished yet.
SO FAR, he has added a "body kit": alloy wheels, bucket seats, back-box exhaust and spoilers. He has colour co-ordinated the interior - everything is blue or black - with the dashboard and interior handles sprayed to match. The mats are what he calls "chequered plated" - made of metal and similar to those in rally cars - they resemble the ramps of a low-loader. His numberplates are, he suspects, illegal as they're not European standard and his rear-light lenses are tinted black and are probably illegal too. As we talk in his apartment, a 12-inch strip of blue neon light sits on the table awaiting his attention. "That goes under the dash. I'll wire it up to the courtesy light and when it comes on, like when the doors open, the interior will light up neon blue."
Grooming and pampering Susie, as he calls "her", eats hungrily into his security officer's salary. If he had the money, he says he would "ice" the car. "Ice stands for In-Car-Entertainment", he says. He already has a CD player installed but real "ice-ing" would include powerful speakers and amplifiers, a DVD player, a PlayStation and possibly even a television.
So why does he do this? "I love it. It's fun", he says. "Look at that." He points to the window - a young couple passing Susie almost stop walking to admire her. The young man gives the car a slow once-over and continues to look back after he passes. Several other (male) passers-by stop to peer inside.
"That gives me such a buzz", says Mark, proud that his car elicits such attention. He agrees it's like being the only kid on the block with a particular toy.
But it's a dangerous toy.The latest figures from the National Roads Authority show that in the 18-24 age group last year, 55 car drivers died. Fifty of them were male. He accepts it's a frightening statistic, given that he fits the profile. It won't happen him, he hopes, primarily because he doesn't speed, he says. He believes that speed, and the power-rush that goes with it, is the key to young, male driver fatalities.
He confesses that he used to speed but has slowed down because he got a fright - the bucket seats he fitted don't allow as much body movement as a regular seat and, rounding a corner one day and not feeling himself "slide" with the momentum, he momentarily lost control. He was lucky. There was no tree or wall. There was no oncoming car. There was no pedestrian. The experience frightened him enough to change his ways. He says he has since become a more responsible driver and, while he always wore his own seat-belt, he now insists that rear-seat passengers also belt-up; the television ad featuring the "Body to Body" soundtrack influenced him. The ad shows how an un-belted, rear-seat passenger, on impact, ricochets around the cab of the car causing death and injury to other passengers.
Rosemary Smith, former international rally driver and winner of the International Tulip Rally, believes that such "frights" are an inevitable part of any driver's coming of age, but she believes young drivers should experience those frights in controlled conditions. She is lobbying for an advanced driving school and, with the backing of several car and insurance companies, has an option on a 90-acre site near Fairyhouse.
The school would simulate hazardous conditions and test the reaction times and responses of young drivers. The plans for the proposed school include skid-pans, water hazards, dangerous bends and general, everyday road conditions.
There would also be a classroom component with simulation equipment similar to arcade games. Similar driver education schools in continental Europe have significantly reduced fatalities. Since a school opened in Luxembourg in 1995, the fatalities in younger age categories have decreased by 21 per cent, says Smith.
She says the new theory test for drivers is completely ineffective - a driver needs to see and feel the situation and experience the out-of-control feeling. Mark agrees - he says he knows the theory of things such as braking distances, but they mean nothing to him practically. Would he attend a course at such a school? "Definitely." Oddly, the Government, which would need to match the private funding (about £3 million) to purchase the site and get the school up and running, is not interested, according to Smith.
Dr Patricia Casey, psychiatrist at the Mater Hospital, has written about the mind-set of risk-taking drivers who consider themselves invincible, and describes the Pollyanna Principle: "I have always been safe, I am safe now and I will be safe in the future".
Casey points out that young men seeing their cars as an extension of themselves is not a new phenomenon. Naming the car gives it a personality, makes it a friend and can lead to the belief that a friend will do you no harm. She considers grooming and pampering cars - maxing - to be the same deal: my car is cool, so, therefore, am I. Of course, this is really about sex. She equates the power of being in control to the power of sex for young men. Rosemary Smith is more forthright - she says men think of their cars as an extension of the male organ and they're out to impress. Mark merely reckons it's a "babe magnet".
It was Mark who alerted me to Sunday's "rolling cruise", which, he says, was a typical cruise. Susie is showing signs of the rigours of the day and is mud-spattered and grimy. Hopefully that'll be the worst that happens to her - or to him.