Natives who beat drums to drive off evil spirits are objects scorn to smart Americans who blow horns to break up traffic jams.
–Mary Ellen Kelly
It doesn’t help anything; knock it off with the honking already.
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Discardia 
Amen!
And — what’s with laying on the horn the very second the light turns green? Take a breath, folks.
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There’s a corner shop in my neighborhood with a sign that says: “Relax! You have plenty of time.” Always makes me smile and take a deeper breath. One of these days I’ll go in there in and say thank you.
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There’s a suburban cemetary next to a busy intersection that has a billboard: ‘Slow Down. We can wait.’ That makes me smile, too.
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Damn straight! 60% of the traffic in Manhattan is private cars on private trips. 75% of households in Manhattan don’t own cars.
I’ve always wanted to walk up to someone in one of those cars, knock on the window and politely remind them that people live here. In my fantasy, this car is a big black SUV with Jersey plates and a grill high enough to kill me, yet somehow I walk away from the conversation unscathed.
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