April 30th, 2007
The Bell Car
As those of you who have had the pleasure of doing some riding with me know, I rarely use my car horn.
There are many good reasons for this, not the least of which being that, for their ’88 Nova, Chevrolet engineered a horn that emits a comical little “meep” not unlike that of the Warner Brothers’ Roadrunner…only less threatening. This would actually be fine for “alerting other drivers to possible hazards,” which I seem to recall learning the purpose of the horn was, and which, let’s face it, no one has in mind when they are using it. No, a beep is criticism. Or even an insult (“Learn to drive, jackass!”). If you’re the beepee, it’s hard not to take it this way. (“Alright! Alright! I’m moving! Happy…? Jackass.”) This no place for the voicings of a lovable cartoon character/internet service provider mascot.
Truthfully though, even if I had one of those menacing, twelve-notes-at-
once semi-truck arrangements that you have to activate by pulling a cord, I wouldn’t use it. (Except, of course, when kids rode by and gave me the classic “pull the horn” signal, which I’m pretty sure kids do not give anymore, seeing as how they each have their own personal in-car DVD player/MP3 player/gaming stations to keep them amused.) I am a chronically non-aggressive, non-confrontational person, and somehow — for in my experience this is more of an exception than a rule — these characteristics actually remain intact when I get behind the wheel.
This is how I ended up sitting directly behind a guy at a stoplight last week for probably half-a-minute after it had turned green. (I couldn’t actually see, but we can assume he was on his cell phone.) It was amazing. I waited patiently as time rolled by, confident he’d wake up any second. We idled there, with the permission to proceed right in front of us. Eventually, I grew sure one of the many people lined up behind me had noticed the green by now, and that one of them would feel obliged to offer the helpful suggestion to this dude that he f-ing go. Surprisingly none of them did. Probably they were looking to me to handle the situation — as second in line, it did kind of seem like my responsibility. I placed my thumb on the horn, but just before I depressed it, Kevin-Spacey snapped out of it and we were off.
While this incident was slightly frustrating, I was never mad at the guy. Everyone has a lot on their mind these days. I zone out all the time. (Except, of course, when I’m here with my eager readers. You guys always get my utmost care get my utmost and attention and and utmost attention.) I did, however, want to give him the vehicular equivalent of the “They’re open down there” you give when you’re at the bank and the person ahead of you doesn’t notice when a teller becomes available. The closest we have to this is the “tap,” which, with it’s forceful jabbiness, isn’t that much better than really laying on it.
This is why I have decided that we should all equip our cars with a second, altogether different noise, so we have options. My recommendation? Bells. Something similar to the ringing of an old-fashioned phone.
Sounding your car’s bells would be the new “friendly honk.” It would say “Person-on-the-sidewalk-I-know, look over here,” “So long, relatives whose house we were visiting. It was fun…we’ll miss you…we can’t wait to be home,” “They’re open down there.”
Now you have choices. What does that person who cut you off deserve? You’ve got your bell and your horn. Ring or honk. “Jing” or “’eep.” Helpful motorist who understands we are all in this transportation thing together, or mean-spirited jerk.
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