The other day, after dropping off my kids at school, I encountered you in your car driving in front of me. You turned into a driveway without using a turn signal and stopped, still occupying at least half of my lane. Narrowly avoiding collision, I honked—not the kind of honk that says “I’m an asshole” but the short gentle kine that says “eh brah, wake up.” Later, when we both parked and went into the store, you asked me where I was from, because I honked my horn and people here don’t do that. Well brah, back in the old days we neva used the car horn because we all looked out for each other and had lots of aloha. After I told you I was from here you kept on asking me if this was how I wanted to start my day. You were barking so much I couldn’t answer your question, but now I will: My day started like every morning, with focus the well-being of my two little boys. And I certainly didn’t want to start my day with an accident caused by somebody who is too lazy to use his turn signal. Or maybe you started the day planning on retirement in a wheelchair covered by my insurance.