9 Street Racing Tips for Blind Racers

Alright. So you’re blind and you want to street race.

That’s not brave. That’s not inspiring. That’s what happens when natural selection takes a smoke break.

But hey, who’s anyone to judge? Society said you couldn’t drive at all, and look at you now – about to make every insurance adjuster in a three-state radius question their career choices. Beautiful.

1. Echolocation (Or: How to Scream Your Way Through Traffic)

Bats do it. Dolphins do it. You’re about to do it at 95 mph past a farmer’s market.

Here’s the deal: roll down all windows, lean out slightly, and just… scream. Not words. Not for help. Just pure, primal sound bouncing off objects and returning to tell you “hey, that’s a minivan.” Or a building. Or someone’s grandmother. The pitch tells you everything – except whether you should feel bad about what just happened.

Quick physics lesson: sound travels at 343 meters per second. You’re traveling at 40 meters per second if you’re doing 90. This means you have roughly 8 seconds to process that you’re about to hit something before you actually hit it.

Wait, that math seems wrong.

Doesn’t matter. You can’t see the calculator anyway.

2. Co-Pilot Selection (Choose Someone Who’s Already Dead Inside)

This person will be your eyes. Your lifeline. Your future co-defendant.

You can’t just grab anyone. Your cousin Steve who “knows cars”? Useless. He’ll spend the whole time screaming “BRAKE BRAKE BRAKE” without mentioning small details like which direction to turn to avoid the school bus. That’s not helpful. That’s just noise pollution with extra steps.

What you need is someone who’s transcended fear. Someone who can calmly narrate your violent trajectory through a shopping district like they’re David Attenborough documenting gazelles. “And here we see the blind racer approaching the intersection… magnificent… he’s chosen to ignore all conventional wisdom… nature is healing.”

Red flags in a potential co-pilot:

• Still has hope for the future
• Values their credit score
• Says things like “maybe we should slow down”
• Has living parents who would miss them
• Keeps mentioning “jail time”

Find someone with nothing left to lose. Gambling addicts are perfect. They’re already comfortable with terrible odds.

3. Smell Your Way to Victory (And Various Felonies)

Every speed has a signature scent, and you’re about to become a sommelier of velocity.

30 mph smells like freshly cut grass and whatever that couple was grilling before you drove through their backyard. 50 mph brings hints of hot asphalt mixed with the tears of driving instructors everywhere. 80 mph? That’s burning rubber, evaporating brake fluid, and what philosophers call “the void.” Once you hit triple digits, you don’t smell anything because your soul has exited through your nose to file a complaint with management.

The metal taste in your mouth? Could be blood. Could be you bit through your steering wheel. Could be you’re having a stroke. No way to know! That’s the excitement of it all.

Your sense of touch becomes crucial too. Bugs on your face mean safe highway speeds. Birds mean you’re getting aggressive. A deer through the windshield means you’re in the country or you’ve discovered time travel because how else does a deer end up in downtown Portland?

4. Braille Dashboard (But Make It Spicy)

Everyone’s labeling their controls wrong.

“Brake.” “Gas.” “Clutch.”

BORING.

You know what these do. What you need is motivation. Entertainment. A reason to keep going when every logical part of your brain is screaming to stop.

Try these instead:

• Gas pedal: “YES DADDY”
• Brake: “QUITTER BUTTON”
• Turn signal: “LOL WHY”
• Hazard lights: “ADMIT DEFEAT”
• Horn: “MARCO” (wait for “POLO”)
• Windshield wipers: “USELESS BUT INCLUDED”

The gear shift tells a story now. P for “Probably should have thought this through.” R for “Reconsider everything.” N for “Nothing matters, we’re all dying.” D for “Do it, coward.”

Your stereo only has one setting: music that makes other drivers uncomfortable. Gregorian chants. ASMR podcasts at maximum volume. Those Kidz Bop albums but just the rap songs. You want people to be so disturbed they forget to call the cops.

5. Advanced Horn Theory

If Helen Keller had a hot rod, this would be her language.

Forget everything you know about appropriate horn use. You’re having entire conversations now. Short beep? “Hello.” Long honk? “MOVE OR BECOME SPEED BUMP.” Playing “Careless Whisper” on your custom musical horn? That’s flirting, and it’s weird, but you’re already blind street racing so let’s not pretend you make good choices.

Install multiple horns. No, more than that. Think “orchestra of chaos.” Every turn needs its own sound. Left turns get the foghorn. Right turns get the bike bell. Going straight gets the La Cucaracha because why not announce your presence with a problematic tune from the 1930s?

6. Psychological Warfare (Because Physical Warfare Is Harder When You Can’t See)

Paint eyes all over your car. Thousands of them. All looking different directions. Some crying blood for that extra touch. The irony alone will cause accidents.

But that’s kid stuff.

You want to really mess with people? Throw things. Not garbage – that’s illegal. Throw confusing things. Rubber chickens. Printed photos of their own cars (how did you get those?). Individual socks (never pairs). Unopened birthday cards addressed to “Jeremy” (nobody knows a Jeremy).

The goal isn’t to win the race. It’s to make every other driver go home and really think about what they witnessed. You want them lying awake at night wondering “Why breadsticks? Why were they still warm? HOW were they still warm?”

Blast audiobooks at maximum volume but start them at chapter 14. Nobody can resist trying to figure out the plot. They’ll slow down just to hear if Sandra survives the divorce proceedings.

7. Urban Navigation Via Property Damage

Every dent tells you where you are. That mailbox you obliterated last Tuesday? Landmark. The five trash cans you collected on Maple Street? GPS coordinates. You’re not destroying property – you’re creating a personalized map that insurance companies hate.

Here’s something nobody mentions: follow the ambulances. Not because you caused them (though statistically…), but because they’re going somewhere specific and they’re moving fast. It’s like having a pace car that comes with its own siren. Efficient!

Pizza delivery guys are your North Star. They know every shortcut, they drive like maniacs, and they smell like oregano. Easy to track. Just follow the scent of minimum wage and garlic.

8. Intersections Are Just Spicy Straightaways

Traffic lights are a social construct for people who can perceive color.

You? You operate on pure vibes and statistical probability.

The math is simple: if everyone else stops, you go. If everyone else goes, you go faster. If everyone’s honking, you’re either doing something very wrong or very right, and honestly, at this point, what’s the difference?

Some call it “running red lights.” You call it “choosing not to participate in the tyranny of traffic management systems.” That’s not illegal, that’s philosophy. Socrates would be proud. Probably. He’s dead so he can’t complain.

9. There Is No Finish Line (Because You Can’t See It)

When do you stop racing blind?

Trick question.

You don’t.

Car catches fire? That’s just mood lighting. Wheels fall off? Now you’re pioneering hover technology. Engine explodes? External combustion engine, very avant-garde. The FBI surrounding your vehicle? Flash mob. Everything’s a flash mob when you can’t see it.

Let’s be honest here – the moment you decided to race blind, you committed to something beyond winning or losing. You’ve transcended normal human concerns like “safety” and “laws” and “basic self-preservation.” You’re operating on a different plane of existence now. A stupid, dangerous, completely inadvisable plane of existence, but still.

The Part Where Someone Should Have Stopped You

Look, there’s a moment in everyone’s life where they think “what if?” What if you just… did it? What if you threw caution to the wind, cranked the stereo, and showed the world that vision is optional?

That moment should pass. It should be brief. A fleeting thought dismissed by your frontal lobe as “incompatible with continued living.”

But here you are, reading tip number nine about blind street racing like it’s a real possibility. Like tomorrow you might wake up and think “today’s the day.”

And to you, hypothetical person who’s taking this way too seriously, here’s the real tip:

Don’t.

Just… don’t.

Call an Uber. Take the bus. Train a pack of seeing-eye dogs to pull a sled. Literally anything else.

But also – and this is important – if you’re going to ignore every piece of advice from every reasonable person in your life, if you’re going to become a cautionary tale that driving instructors tell to scare teenagers, if you’re absolutely committed to making the evening news in the worst possible way…

At least make it memorable. Because somewhere out there, there’s a guardrail with your name on it. Not metaphorically. They’re literally going to put a plaque on it.

“Here lies what’s left of someone who thought this article was an instruction manual.”

Disclaimer: This is satire. S-A-T-I-R-E. If you needed this disclaimer, please return your driver’s license to the nearest DMV and apologize to your parents for wasting their genetic material. Also, fun fact: if you’ve read this entire disclaimer, you’re the type of person who reads shampoo bottles on the toilet. There’s nothing wrong with that, but maybe find a hobby. Not blind racing though. Never blind racing.