Honk If You Think Average Horn Needs Some Fine-Tuning

I can’t have been the first to notice the Skinnerian relationship between the sound of a car horn and the sudden extension of the middle finger. It is so instantaneous, so ubiquitous that one has to wonder if it isn’t neurological, if there isn’t a circuit of some sort running from the eardrum to the middle digit, a synapse that’s triggered specifically by the sound of a nearby car horn. An urban variation on the startle reflex.

From an evolutionary standpoint, it’s not a particularly beneficial development--giving someone the finger almost never improves a situation and often leads to moral disintegration on a larger scale. Yet time and again I have been saved from follow-through only by the presence of my children, and when they are not in the car, the Winnie-the-Pooh window shade. Mom flipping driver off, Pooh waving as she passes. Nice image.

For the longest time, I thought that the fault lay not in our cars but in our selves, but now I think it is a little of both. The purpose of a car horn is, of course, to get someone’s attention. But there are many reasons one might want to get another driver’s attention, and this is simply not reflected by the intonation of most car horns.

Most car horns sound perpetually belligerent. They blare or blat in a judgmental way, like they’re swearing at you or yelling something less than complimentary about your mother. In the dulcet tones of Pyramus. The sound of most car horns is the auditory equivalent of the finger. Hence the response.

Then the other day I encountered my first, and possibly only, car-horn maestro. I was about to pull out onto Beverly Boulevard from one of the residential cross streets in Hancock Park. Right into an approaching white van. Fortunately, the driver saw me, and he honked. A bright, staccato honk, friendly almost, caused by just enough pressure for noticeable sound, but not enough to imply censure.

Then, as he passed, he nodded right at me and gave a little wave. To show that there were no hard feelings. That he realized I wasn’t a bad driver, just a momentarily distracted one.

If I wasn’t happily married, I probably would have followed him home.

So now I am trying to expand my range on the car horn, practicing my capriccios and adagios, my crescendos and diminuendos. I especially hope to perfect that quick, breathless honk that says “heads up,” but in a companionable sort of way.

Someday, perhaps, I’ll achieve the “Excuse me, I know you have three kids and are probably quite exhausted, but the light has been green for 20 seconds now and I thought you’d want to know” honk. But that could take a lifetime, couldn’t it?

Meanwhile, I invite the auto industry to get involved. If engineers can figure out how to fit televisions into the ceiling, then they should be able to come up with a more varied car horn selection. I’m not talking about those annoying novelty horns that play “La Cucaracha,” I’m talking about an assortment of tones that would more accurately embody the many emotional needs of drivers today. This is the communication age, after all, and cars need to keep up. For instance:

* The “Hang on, hang on there, buddy” horn. To alert drivers clearly unaware they are about to back into you/the lamppost/the old lady with the shopping cart. A clarion tone with a “Hey, we’ve all been there” finish. Swooping strings perhaps, or the strong but compassionate chirrup of a clarinet.

* The “Omigod, hi” horn. How many times have you seen a line of drivers glaring into their rearview mirrors while some oblivious motorist tried to get the attention of an acquaintance swinging down the sidewalk? How helpful it would be if there were a special sort of horn, a trilling flute perhaps. Attention-getting yet benign.

* The carpool herald. If people insist on using the car horn as a method of summoning friends and family, then let’s make it a more pleasant experience for everyone. Perhaps the compelling yet whimsical waddle of the oboe. Or even better, the bassoon.

* The “You can’t make a left onto Sunset at this hour for God’s sake, just make the right already and double back” model. The gentle authoritative voice of the kettledrum, I think, would work well, suggesting divine, yet unequivocal, inspiration. Such a sound would also do in any “What are you waiting for, an engraved invitation?” intersection scenario.

* The “Hey, baby” horn. Included reluctantly--should an automotive device ever really be part of courtship? If it must, then certainly the sweet ringing brush of a xylophone would be an improvement on the auditory goose of the standard car horn.

* The “Sorry if the freeway traffic is distracting you from your cell phone conversation” horn. Here, any current model works just fine. And lean on it. Hard.

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Mary McNamara can be reached at mary.mcnamara@latimes.com.