Three Russian kids in Brighton Beach, Brooklyn encircle a Subaru wagon, jabbing their notched shop rulers under the weather stripping and pounding into the doors like a giant sheet-metal gangbang. Horny as fuck with no place to go, New York Russians are putting auto theft up there with lighting a joint as the best way to get the weekend started. And whats to deter them? For the past 60 years the mechanics of opening and starting a car havent changed, giving little deterrent to any troubled teen whos learned red and black wires go together from their brother.
We spent three weekends with kids aged 15-26 and discovered how irrelevant law enforcement has become. They have imported decades of experience from the Soviet Union and, compared to back home, the retribution for being caught is nothing to worry about. If they go to jail they can get something to eat and, if theyre lucky, get into some good fights. For me stealing cars is just another drug, says Yannis, one of the younger boys we interviewed. Like you have potheads and drunks, we are car thieves. Hes right. Their rooms are adorned with car accessories, their clothes have car logos (usually Mercedes), and ninety percent of their conversation revolves around the technical aspects of bettering your time. Even when they stay in and play video games its all cars. We caught them with a pirated version of Grand Theft Auto III, a game where car thieves travel all over the city moving up the criminal ladder by completing various missions.
They hang out in Eastern European-style discos with marquees advertising table tennis inside. They wear soccer tracksuits and listen primarily to shitty hip hop and high-energy dance. Considering the current climate of Moscow is right up there with 80s South Central and the serf rebellion of the 1230s, their nihilism makes perfect sense. We spoke to them the day of the WTC tragedy for example and they seemed perfectly oblivious. When asked if they knew what was going on, an older boy who calls himself Romanov said yes, two buildings fell as he made a squishing gesture with his hands. He had the mannerisms of someone that had become comfortable with catastrophe. By Wednesday they were back on the prowl.
After joining them on one or two runs we understood the rush. With girls on lookout swiveling their heads back and forth like little chipmunks, the pulsing aura of the moment is completely palpable, the adrenaline bumping though the system full force. A red-faced 20-year-old named Dimitri comes across as the alpha-thug, transfixing us all with his near intoxifying defiance in tearing into the driver-side door. Shudders run through his clenched jaw as the expired speed bounces around inside him like lightning waiting to be grounded. Furiously slipping his metal strip around euphoric rage, the door finally gives in. Neighbors seeing this sexual tension are apt to put the hose on the would-be thief to separate him from the car rather than call the police, so the thieves are not scared. We were petrified, however, and decided to run away.