To all the drivers who speak with their horn,
Late at night or early morn;
Mid-day or in the rush hour mess,
Your frantic beeping lacks finesse.
In the South I have been accustomed to,
Billy-Bob or Esther Sue,
Honking to say “howdy” from across the way,
An embarrassing gesture, (to me anyway).
A horn to make some aware,
Of danger or a nasty snare;
But to use it as a display or frustration,
Road rage or an “in your face connotation”;
You must know that if you get behind me,
I am just a simple girl from Tennessee;
Your honking will not move my car any faster along;
I have the radio up and I am singing a song.
I ignore those who cannot wait, it seems;
Even two seconds after the light turns green.
I mean come on, a second makes a difference in your travel?
Your NY nerves are starting to ravel?
And to the one who would like for me to run over,
The construction worker with a stop sign, blocking me from the dozer;
I pay attention to his sign even if I would like to get through,
The pot holes have to be filled; you would like that- wouldn’t you?
I realize there are more people and more cars on Long Island,
But I refuse to jump on the band wagon.
I will wait my turn, I will signal, I will go the speed I must;
I will allow someone to enter the highway instead of eating my dust.
I will not let your horn influence me if it isn’t to warn me of danger,
Yes, I know I am new here and to you I am just a stranger.
I have observed the needs of the drivers in a city so big;
I respect your position and I do my best to move along my little rig.
But If a sign says stop, I stop. If the light turns green;
I release my brake first without peeling out onto the scene.
I abide by the speed limit (I don’t plan to pay for the policeman’s ball);
You go ahead, go around me… it’s your call.
But your horn, oh your ever loving horn, so sweet the sound;
As you play your melody and the dash you pound,
I am listening to a melody of my own; Pavarotti, Lena or Billie Holiday;
I am paying attention, but your honking will not ruin my day.
Driving on Long Island is a different experience, but for safety’s sake, I will still take my time.
Oh and I saw this driving home one day; “Here…” (as we say in the South) “is your sign…