I was riding to work yesterday when I observed a femaleÂ driver cut right in front of a pickup truck, causing theÂ driver to swerve onto the shoulder to avoid hitting her.Â This evidently angered the driver enough that he hung hisÂ arm out his window and made an obscene gesture at the woman.
I was nervous; my car was in rough shape. I thought of New York State’s rigorous inspections. Any number of problems might turn up that would be expensive to fix.
I drove down a country road and found a garage that had an inspection sign. When I told the mechanic what I needed, he got in the car, circled the block, turned on the lights and honked the horn.
The first Sunday after my husband and I bought a new car, we parked it in the last row of the church lot, not wanting to be ostentatious.
While talking with friends after the service, my husband accidentally hit the panic button on his electronic key. Immediately our car’s horn blared and its lights flashed.
Watching my husband fumble with the button, his friend teased, “Wouldn’t it have been in better taste to just put a few lines in the church bulletin?”