By Dave MacNeil
We humans possess myriad ways we can communicate: verbally, facially, the written word, or even digitally (I’m talking about fingers here, not online). But when you’re encased in a vehicle, hurtling down the road at 80 klicks, none of these methods are practical (with the obvious exception of digitally, of course), so we resort to an often-overlooked form of communication – the car horn.
I remember as a kid, driving with my dad and thinking “I can’t wait till I grow up and can drive a car.”
Now, it’s not uncommon to think your dad’s the coolest, as your parents are your main adult influence when you’re a kid. But when it was just me and Dad in the car, I got to sit up front and really experience all that was going on.
This was long before I understood from my driver’s manual that having both your hands on the steering wheel – at 10 and 2 o’clock, no less – was the only way one could successfully and safely navigate the roads.
Dad had a lot going on. With his right-hand alternating between the cigarette that lay in the ashtray and the radio controls as he listened to his favourite fiddlers on CJFX, it was really his left hand that captivated me.
No “10 and 2” for this guy. I’d watch as he sort of cradled the top of the steering wheel with his left hand in a way that a simple raising of the hand about an inch or two off the wheel would serve as a greeting to oncoming drivers.
Long before the rest of the world found our small part of it, if you met someone on the road you knew them. It was a simple fact. And some kind of greeting was expected, lest you be branded some sort of snob.
But sometimes, another form of communication would have to be employed in order to afford your fellow man (or woman) the respect they deserve, and that was the car horn. I could always tell the level of respect Dad had for someone by the way he blew the horn.
I was reminded of the language of the car horn recently, as I drove down Waverley Road in Dartmouth.
Anyone who knows this stretch of highway knows it’s a 50 km/h speed zone from one end to the other. Extremely popular with cyclists, it’s a series of blind crests and hairpin turns that make it impossible to even maintain the rather modest speed limit in some spots.
So, I’m driving down the road and I notice a small blue Honda in my rearview mirror. The first couple of times she blew her horn, I thought nothing of it. From the timbre and tone of it, I thought she was simply greeting a friend working in their front yard.
It wasn’t until we were nearly halfway down the road, and the honking grew in intensity, that I realized, with a quick glance in my mirror, that the greetings emanating from her vehicle were being directed at me, and that this driver had been overtaken by a full-blown road rage.
As she gripped the steering wheel with one hand and held a Tim’s cup with the other, it almost seemed like she had a couple more hands at her disposal, with which she slapped the dash and gestured wildly. Now that I take time to think about it, I guess there was a fifth hand in there somewhere that was blowing the horn.
If that wasn’t enough evidence that my driving was being fully critiqued, it was the sight of her bottom lip tucked firmly under her top teeth that confirmed that the verbal barrage that accompanied her manual outburst contained several words that started with “F.”
I eventually pulled over where it was safe, and my newest acquaintance manoeuvred around me and proceeded on her merry way.
But the incident brought me back to those more innocent days, driving with my dad, so I offer you this brief lexicon of car horn language, so that you too can properly express yourself as you share the roads with friends and strangers alike.
- One short toot: This one has two applications. It is sometimes employed at a traffic light or stop when the motorist in front of you must be reminded that it’s his turn to go, and that you harbour no ill will that he’s obviously been distracted by something. It also serves as an adequate greeting for someone whom you’re obliged to greet, but with whom you bear only a modicum of familiarity.
- Two short toots: This one only has one use, and that’s as a substitute for the wave, and it’s used when the person you’re greeting is a friend and you don’t want them thinking less of you as you pass (“Was that Dave? Did he even see me?”)
- Three or four short toots: These are reserved for the select friends who you would otherwise stop and chat with, but since you’re heading somewhere important you need to let them know you’ll get them next time.
- One toot for a full beat: Like number one, it’s used in an intersection. Unlike number one, it signifies that you’ve been more than patient and that, regardless of whatever distraction is holding things up, the motorist in front of you needs to get a move on.
- One toot for two beats: This one is handy at four-way intersections when you need to remind another motorist that they’ve taken your turn and that it’s a called a four-way stop for a reason.
There are several that can follow number 5 in this list, but I’d prefer not to use that sort of language in a publication that may be read by minors.