Day Writing by Heather Hamilton Maude: Honk, Honk
Once upon a time there was a trucker north of Casper, Wyo. just doing what truckers do – driving. This guy was headed south on I-25 when he saw another truck parked on the side of the interstate, with the driver out assessing something. He looked in his mirror and saw a car approaching, but not passing yet. So, he flipped on his blinker, changed lanes, got around the parked vehicle, then merged back into the right lane.
On his way he went, noticing the car was taking a long time to pass him. Upon closer inspection out his window, he saw the car’s driver parallel to his cab, with his passenger window rolled down. He was leaning across his front seat, lips moving in what the trucker assumed was a string of words that would make his mother blush. This was based largely on the man’s middle finger sticking out his passenger window, and his honking horn, in between bursts of leaning over and moving his lips.
The trucker wasn’t looking for trouble. He hadn’t set out to ruin this guy’s day. However, he had also been anticipating this very man, pitching this very fit. He waited, and after lagging back a few feet, here came the car again. Once more the man leaned over, and as his face followed his middle finger back into view, the truck driver honked his horn.
Except his truck was outfitted with a bonafide train horn, in full working order. Mounted to the front of the driver’s side step.
The effect was instant and impactful.
The sound of the horn could nearly be seen entering the open passenger window, and reverberating around the cab of the car, which seemed to almost stop, lift, and shake in mid-air.
The car’s driver immediately ceased making obscene gestures and flapping his lips, and got his hands on the wheel at ten and two, just in time to hit the grass between the north and south bound lanes of the interstate.
A couple reflector poles later he whipped it back on the highway, nearly hitting the tail end of the trucker’s trailer. But, he managed to straighten things out, then hung back for a couple miles before putting the pedal to the metal, offering one last wave of his middle finger as he blew by the trucker.
But here’s the thing about I-25 headed toward Casper – an empty truck has no problem keeping up with a middle-aged compact sedan.
So, away they went, all the way to Casper, with the occasional toot of a train horn reminding the car’s driver of that important lesson that says everyone is free to make their own choices in life, but they are not free from the consequences of those choices.
Drive safe folks, and don’t be an unnecessary jerk on the road, or anywhere else for that matter.
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