The Evolution of the Nashville Party Vehicle
File Under: tomses, subset frivolities
They say Nashville is the bachelorette capital of the world. I believe ‘em. The growing gaggles of giddy gals going gaga are proof in the pudding.1
These amped up wedding parties, and a growing number of other celebrants, have pushed the evolution in party vehicles to the point of ridiculousness.
Blessed, wasteful ridiculousness.
It warms the heart to think that adults can still have fun the way a five year old can in a Barbie Jeep.
Below is my unscientific, possibly historical, and deeply personal photo essay of the transitional forms I’ve witnessed in just five years since my first exposure:2
Currently, the pedal bar is small potatoes compared to its latter forms, but it still prowls the streets, a literal roving display of conspicuous consumption.
What did this logic-defying machine launch?
INTERMEDIARY “AGGIE” STAGE
PENULTIMATE TRANSITIONAL FORM
CURRENT FORM (AND POSSIBLY THE PINNACLE) BEFORE HITTING THE CEILING OF LEGALITY AND COMMON SENSE
How did it all begin?
This is where my imagination is probably our best guide:
In 2002 a Camry-full of best gals from Lexington were singing Shania Twain at the top of their lungs, when at a red light, one bachelorette clambered up on the roof, raised her Corona, and shouted, “It’s a party, ya’ll!”
Peering out of the front window of Tootsies honkytonk, a bored yet enterprising bus tour manager sat eating banana pudding. Witnessing such lucrative potentialities she mused,
“Hey, why don’t we put a bunch a stools around a bar, lay it on top a flatbed wagon, put Jeremy in there with a microphone, get us some big speakers and twinkly lights, and see who’ll pay to hop on! Pedals? Yeah! That’ll keep ‘em busy, and we can save us some gas. It’ll probably never catch on, but won’t it be FUN!?”
What’s Next?
I suggest a field trip so that my besties and I can do a proper, analytical study of this cultural phenomenom. Let’s say in 2022 for my big birthday.
Who’s in for some rolling karoake? It’s gonna be a party, ya’ll!
That’s comfort food idiom number one, for those counting. You get two more including a dessert.
Based on my own field observation, Saturday evening, August 21, 2021.