For those of you who have never been to this part of Texas (or if your not an asshole) you should know, you do not honk your horn at someone as soon as a red light turns green, it really gives us a case of the red ass, at least give someone a 10 count, then a courtesy beep. If they do not move after that, you are free to put your car in park, walk up, knock on their window and make sure they are not dead.
On that note, I was on my way to water the baseball fields Saturday and some Houstonite hunter for the weekend shithead gave me the horn at our beloved one red light. Needless to say, I gave him "the look" in the sideview of the Trooper and putted as slow as I could down that two lane, mile and a half stretch of highway until I turned off.
35? I feel like going 15. It is a nice sunny day after all.
Which brings me to the original point of this post. That all reminded me of a story that my dad has relayed to me on MANY occassions that made me a better, more courteous driver.
You are never in so much of a hurry that seconds count, unless you're Richard Petty.
And the story,
Dad worked for Gousha at the time, when they started the digital cartography end of the company they hired a consultant who came down from New York. As the consultant drove into Comfort he hit (at that time) the one stoplight and was behind an old farmer in a truck. When the light changed the old man was engrossed in his thoughts and didn't see the light change. The NY'er layed on his horn and startled the old man, which pissed him off.
From the account of my Dad and Glenn (who showed up to work white as a ghost) the old man put his truck in park, grabbed his rifle from the back window, got out and walked up to Glenn's window and asked him if he was in a hurry. Glenn told him no, of course and the old man replied, then keep your britches on and your hand off that damn horn.
Ah, old school.