Car Horns and the Bird

I'm not a horn tooter. In fact, before I hit the horn in any car I think about my actions. Of course, this overthinking can be a bit dangerous as that split second could be the difference between getting hit by another car or avoiding a collision. But I can't help it - I think horns are rude.

It seems there should be three different tunes on a car horn - one for an urgent warning as in "Let's avoid having an accident," one for "The light has turned green, it's time to stop talking to your passenger and start going," and one for "Hey Jodi, the mail carrier, how are you doing?" Notice I don't think there should be a rude tune - but that goes back to how I think our society, in general, has become overtly rude and immature in recent years.

Which brings me to yesterday's horn event. I was driving Dave's monster suburban and was second in line at a busy stoplight. The driver in front of me was enthusiastically engaged in conversation with his passenger and frankly, my mind was also otherwise engaged as I was thinking I should join Dave on his upcoming trip to Acalpulco (another story).

The stoplight turned green and the driver in front of me was still engaged in conversation. I waited and counted to three, looked in the rearview mirror at a long line of cars, and raised my hand to the horn and paused ... should I or shouldn't I? I looked again and the driver was still talking to his passenger, oblivious to the green light.

So I tapped the horn and a short toot emerged from somewhere under the trunk of the car. The driver looked up, started going and just as I was congratulating myself on a successful honk, flipped me the bird.

I was shocked. I raised my hands in a "What's that all about gesture?!" and proceeded to follow the driver as he turned into a strip mall. I wanted to explain myself - that if I could have done a polite honk, I certainly would have, but there was no need to flip me off. I'm not a honker for goodness sakes.

I followed him the length of the strip mall - at which point I remembered I was in Dave's enormous, could-be-perceived-as-menacing suburban. And the bird thrower wasn't stopping anyways, he kept going through the mall parking lot.

So I turned the car around and drove home, taking the back roads, just to be safe. When I told Dave the story he just looked at me, shook his head and said, "Do you have do to that kind of stuff when you're driving my car?!"