Donna
I was out for a run on the side of the road in a quiet gated community with no sidewalks (where almost no traffic ever comes) when a truck honked at me from behind. I asked, “What are you honking for?” because the driver window was rolled down. He yelled back, “You weren’t looking!” Then parked his truck. He was right. I wasn’t looking behind me over my shoulder as I ran forward. But he drove up behind me on a wide road, so his complaint was suspect. I went over to his truck and engaged in a conversation with him. First off, he rolled his eyes at me and said, “Listen honey-” to which I told him I was NOT his HONEY. He tried to tell me his honk was because I didn’t look when I crossed a drive-way he wanted to enter. I tried to empathize with him and said, “That must happen to you a lot. It must be really annoying for you.” He said, “Nope, doesn’t bother me one bit.” So I said, “Then WHY WOULD YOU HONK AT ME?!” Suddenly he changed his story and tried to tell me it was a “howzit” honk, like a “How’s it going?” so I wagged my finger at him and said, “No way, I have never have a ‘howzit’ honk in all my time running here. That’s was not a howzit honk. It was rude!.” In the end, he told me to “Keep jogging big butt!” And I snapped back, “Ok Saggy balls!” Which was ageist and rude as well. There’s nothing wrong with being an old man. There’s nothing wrong with saggy balls. But screw him.