(Encounters, Module 1, “Don’t make a project”)

As I recently cycled 400 kilometres from Gothenburg in Sweden to Copenhagen in Denmark, I came to think (more than usual) about bicycles, cars, travel for the sake of travel itself and what I, in lack of a better term, would call “the culture of transport”. I did not actively seek it out, but I was somewhat on the lookout for something that could be some sort of an encounter with this course in mind. My route was mostly along the coast of southern Sweden, in the counties of Halland and Skåne, through generally quite rural areas.

In a few areas of both Norway and Sweden, you find a quite specific kind of car-centered subculture – what in Norwegian is called “råning” (verb, the action of), “rånere” (noun, those who do the “råning”) and “rånebil” (the car in which said practice takes place), with the Swedish equivalents “raggning” (verb), “raggare” (noun) and “raggarbil” (the car). These are untranslatable terms to name a specific cultural phenomenon. To give a very brief and simplified description (note: not a definition), “råning/”raggning” is centered around driving for the sake of driving. The cars – “rånebil”/”raggarbil” are typically older, many times American brands, sometimes customised and modified with lowered bodies (s.c. lowriders), decoration or music systems.

These are the kind of cars you don’t take out on the main roads, these are cars you drive slowly and often not to just get from A to B, but to go back and forth several times, around in bigger or smaller circles. Music is loud and consumption of alcohol is sometimes present (in ways one normally does not associate with driving a car). I have myself never been a part of this cultural phenomenon, but I believe there are definitely both performative aspects and entertainment involved in the act of “raggning”. 

A very rainy Saturday afternoon in Mellbystrand, a tiny coastal town close to the border between Halland and Skåne, I coincidentally found myself next to what I learned was the big event that week. An event that (as far as I could understand) doesn’t really have an organizer or a name, but “everyone knows” takes place in and around Mellbystrand the second weekend of July every year. People drive their cars around the area, before meeting in a parking lot, playing music and partying through the day and night.

I witnessed what I, after a while, understood to be an important part of the event. Several participants would several times during the day take their cars on shorter rounds in the small town, driving several times in a circle, increasing the music as they go, and wait for the cheers of passer-bys, before returning once again to the parking lot where everyone gathers. 

The attempt to describe this meeting – the encounter – with a culture I’m so not a part of – might somewhat be a parallel to the concepts described in some of the suggested litterature, for example the notions of “speaking nearby” or the difficulty of “representing others” – already cited by my fellow student Çağla Gillis in her description of the piece “From 5:30 to 9:30”.

My own role in this encounter started out as a coincidence. I did not know anything about this event going on, it was by complete chance that the weather and conditions made me stop in Mellbystrand that day, and I really did not have time to stay long. I had already done about 80 kilometers that day, had another 30 to go to reach my goal for the evening, and it was raining heavily. Though, I did need a break, and I stopped for shelter and a coffee at a tiny bar, “The Corner” in Mellbystrand, only because it was situated right next to the road I was biking. It was when I was sitting there that one of the groups of riders started passing by in the intersection of two roads, driving slowly, music blasting, the speed bump creating a fun obstacle for the lowrider cars, leading to cheers from everyone around when the lowriders managed to  get past it. 

I was fascinated and entertained by the drivers and their cars, and decided to stay and observe for a while. I guess one could say in anthropology-terms, that I became a more active observer. This is where I took my phone out and recorded a short clip of the drivers, though being aware of the role of a camera in such a situation, I put it away again and went back to only observing.

After a short while, I took my bike further down the road and rode into the parking lot where all the drivers were gathered. Again, vaguely guessing on using somewhat correct methodological terms, I became a participant observer of the event. Or maybe I was just “a participant”. I rode my bike slowly in between the cars, stopping to look at some of the more striking ones, strike up short conversations with some of the (other) participants. 
I was, once again, fascinated and entertained by the whole thing, not really wanting to be a part of it, but still wanting to be in a bit more of an active position, and not merely a spectator from the outside.

With my sporty gravel bike set up for touring, my clip biking shoes and my full raingear, I did very much stand out in the crowd. By the first glance, I guess it’s natural to think this was an intimidating group of people, with their noisy, steaming cars, blasting music, leather jackets and party attitude. But they were, in contrast, a very easy crowd to have some friendly meetings with. An opening line in Swedish of “hey, what a really cool looking car you got” easily started conversations circulating around the fun atmosphere, the rainy weather and of course the different vehicles. One of them was an older man, let’s just call him Stefan, who drove a very flashy, scarab green 1964 Cadillac in pristine condition, of which he was obviously very proud. Complimenting the car was a very easy way to start up a fun conversation.

Another was a group of (quite drunk but charming) youngsters, driving a very worn down lowrider, paying a lot of attention to my bike (it’s actually pretty flashy), and my – according to them – absolutely insane notion of biking hundreds of kilometers and going by bike for several days. But we soon found we shared a lot of joy in just going somewhere, by bike or car for the sake of being in motion,and the joy of driving or riding the scenic routes, the older, smaller roads – very well suited for cyclists and old cars – you find going through Skåne. 

I left the parking lot to bike the last 30 kilometers of the day in the heavy rain, definitely entertained and surprisingly thrilled by this tiny insight in a cultural phenomenon quite far away from what I usually meet. After a while, another group of drivers out cruising followed the same road as me. I think a few of them, including Stefan and his group in the flashy green Cadillac, must must have recognised me from the parking lot, as they started honking and waving as they passed by. 

I won’t give a conclusion or draw out more theoretical background in this text. Trying to find and describe something that was “an encounter” and at the same time “not make a project” is definitely a paradox. Writing this text is also an encounter in itself, between the contradictory thoughts of what is and what is not a “valid” observation, what is theoretical enough and what is too personal for an academic text. I’ll leave this up to further discussion for later. 

A few other bits of media to accompany the fascinating “raggare” culture

Hishultarundan lockar raggare från när och fjärran – varje år. An article from the local newspaper Hallandsposten from a few summers back. This is about the event “Hishultarundan”, a big “raggare” meetup that happens every year. This is not the same event as the one I met in Mellbystrand, but it is not far away and it has a lot of similarities to what I describe. Google Translate the article for some fun insights or just look at the pictures, for a look at “raggare” culture. The article is open for all, no paywall.

The Raggare culture in Sweden. A Reddit thread in the subreddit r/WeirdWheels, with an older video and some very interesting replies, discussing notions “for” and “against” this car culture