Furry Dice, Bodykits and Turbos: Cars on Youth Culture
Text by Jamie Brett | 14.01.22
When we think about the immense impact that post-war youth culture has had on modern society, we often conjure up heady scenes of Windrush inspired Skinheads stomping to Ska in remote village halls, Ravers elevating themselves from humdrum Thatcherite Britain through the undulating beats of Acid House, or Teds taking that first step from Dad’s suit to sharp cuts and Edwardian tailoring. But beyond the fashion, the styles, the music, and in particular the events; a method of transport had to get them there. Within the Museum of Youth Culture archive we see diverse ways of getting about, from the more civic modes of public transport like buses and Tube trains, to less efficient methods that are imbued with style, even making up a significant part of the identity of the person using it, like Skateboarding, Rollerskating, Motorbikes, and the less recognised humble motor car.
Since the mass commercialisation of the motorcar in the 1950s, we see the car playing a huge role in the founding father of subculture; Rock ’n’ Roll and Rockabilly. In light of the post-war economic boom and rolling expanses of the American landscape, the car becomes a key factor in ‘style’ and borrowing your dad’s muscle car for a trip to the local cinema became less of a pipe dream, and more commonplace for US teenagers during the 1960s and beyond. Subverting this gleam and glamour of the Dodge Challenger or the Chevrolet Camaro, we even see modern-day Rockabilly meetups full of beaten up imported American rust buckets, like the rebellious offspring of the once showroom shiny motorcar of yesteryear, the driveable ghosts of Rock’n’Roll.
Throughout the 1970s in Britain, the Mini and the Morris Minor had a huge impact on family life. A lifelong love for the joys of motoring is often fostered within the small confines of these vehicles, with young petrolheads in the making watching in awe as their mum or dad shifts gear, propelling them down country lanes, towns and cities. The mass production of British vehicles such as Vauxhall, Rover, British Leyland and the fantastic but short-lived Triumph coupes of the era (not to mention the likes of Aston Martin and Rolls Royce), developed a British love affair with the motorcar, and a fellowship of boys and girls adoring of these new, exotic, self-reliant modes of transport making their way into their parents driveways. We often hear rose-tinted early memories of the smell of petrol making it’s way into the cabin, leaky oily engines wafting into garages, and terrible synthetic fabrics and drashboards creaking, cracking and melting under hot sunlight. These motoring misgivings are in complete contrast to modern day car culture, as any of these quirks would fire up an engine warning light and render the car a write-off. It’s this rejection of the imperfect which has a huge impact on the way in which car culture progresses.
"£50 could buy you a road-worthy Peugeot 205 that gets you to college, your mates through the McDonalds drive-thru, and your crew to the rave."
By the 1980s, the turbo made it’s way out of the rally car and into the affordable street vehicle. For the first time big horsepower was made accessible to new drivers, with the MG Metro Turbo and faster paced hot hatches like the Ford Fiesta RX2, Renault 5 GT and the Golf GTI all becoming a mainstay of the ‘boy racer’ image that bubbled under the surface, before insurance companies learnt the hard way. Whilst teenagers stared longingly at the Audi Quattro, Lancia Delta Integrale, or BMW M3 poster on their bedroom wall, ripped out of a car magazine, they had to do with a souped-up version of their grandma’s Saturday shopper for the time-being.
By the 1990s Max Power magazine had a huge impact on the way in which cars could be cheaply tweaked, tuned, modified and also vilified by the press and news media. Just like the ‘Suicide Club’ Ton-Up boys of yesteryear, the folk devils on the roads happened to be teenage couples doing donuts around empty roundabouts in Guildford at 1am. Around this time, hot hatches were mainstream and no longer underground oddballs bought by the family of eager teenage drivers. The Ford range reigned during this time, with the Fiesta RS Turbo throwing some real heat onto the tarmac and inspiring the odd mid-life crisis along the way. Asian imports like the Subaru Impreza and the Honda Civic started to become increasingly modifiable, with body kits easy bought from the back pages of Max Power magazine and bolted on with your mates on a Saturday afternoon, ready to cruise around the town that night to show off your latest bumper and lowered suspension straddling just milimeters from the road.
By the 2000s car culture was at an all-time boom, with affordable used vehicles from all ranges of the market, £50 could buy you a road-worthy Peugeot 205 that gets you to college, your mates through the McDonalds drive-thru, and your crew to the rave. It’s worth mentioning that not all car culture is about looking cool, sometimes it’s just about getting you there; and we especially see this within the free-party traveller scene, which like the rockabillies, subverts the clean aesthetic of the modern car and turns it on its head like a form of crusty punk culture.
It’s safe to say that car-culture remains a huge part of youth culture, with the independence and transcendental freedom of four wheels changing the teenage experience and identity as we knew it. With the modern-day shift towards new cars, lack of ownership, highly stressed turboed out engines and a move to electric, the DIY attitude that came with car culture may be on its way out. However, there will always be an underground, those young people willing to push their vehicles to the limits, those willing to reject the ideals sold to them by large corporations; ride-outs and cruiser communities will continue to thrive via independent customisation garages in the back alleys of London suburban streets, humdrum retail parks and possibly even TikTok streams.
