Honk if you got em.

I finally came to the realization that when I drive I turn into a drunken sailor on shore leave with a chip on their shoulder, while my husband turns into my tea-drinking grandmother. You cut me off, turn in front of me, or drive too slow I will lay on the horn like there was no tomorrow.

My husband, on the other hand, will let you cut him off, practically side swipe his car, nearly force him off the road into a ditch or even come so close to rear-ending him that he can see the color of your eyes in his rear view mirror and he might flash his brights at you. But more then likely, he won’t do anything.

If I happen to be in the car with him during one of these events and suggest that he might want to honk his horn to demonstrate his displeasure, he will lightly tap the horn, emitting a pathetic beep that unless you were pressing your ear to the hood of the car would never even notice. When I pointed this out to my husband, he pulled a cheap shot and offered to let me drive if I felt like I could do better.

He knew that wasn’t going to happen, because we had to get on the freeway - and he knows I don’t do freeways. So I pouted and stared out the window the rest of the trip. It got me thinking, however, that I never noticed that when it comes to driving I am much more aggressive than my husband. I blame my dad, who has a very colorful vocabulary to describe the drivers who routinely cross his path. I am also secretly proud of my husband who can maintain his cool even though the driver’s around him are @*$%# idiots. I just wish he would honk with a little more oomph.