No honking?
Why I don’t drive in Canada
December 6, 2006
Yolanda Kornelsen
I am from Costa Rica, a warm, obscure, little country that most people confuse with Puerto Rico. In Costa Rica, the roads are basically paved, pot-holed, oxcart trails. I’ve been in Canada for three years, but I’m still getting used to its roads and driving customs.
Before I came here, I wasn’t a complete stranger to North American culture. I had been previously indoctrinated with the Starbucks pilgrimages, and the ancient rivalry between the United States and Canada. I knew that the point of hockey was to beat each other up, and that the taxes were cruelly high. However, Canada’s individualistic driving style still baffles me.
For one thing, I did not expect to find that people actually use seatbelts here. I had always thought that seatbelts in the backseat were purely decorative, though I was never able to figure out what the designer was trying to express.
Another surprise came when I noticed that drivers slow down for a small speed bump. And not only that, but people come to a complete stop for a stop sign, even when it’s clear that there is no one coming from either side. With everyone actually following the rules, going the speed limit, and slowing down, no wonder Canada needs such huge intimidating roads.
But I can handle all that: I can take the slowing down, the lack of tailgating, and even the use of seat belts. But what I can’t get used to is the silence. In Canada, there is no shouting between cars and no horns! Horns are best way to stay in touch with the people around you. Two short honks mean, “Hi!” or “Go ahead,” or “Thank-you.” One longer one, means, “Get out of my way,” or “Hurry up.” An even longer honk means, “Stop talking to the person in the other car and drive so I can go too.”
In Costa Rica, there are the times when one is stuck at a red light and everyone just blows their horns because they’re bored. When you hear this beautiful chorus of differently pitched beeps and toots, you join right in and feel like part of a spontaneous community. At least until the light turns green at which time you become a single entity again. But at the next red light, you once again become part of the impatient mass. It’s a beautiful thing.
So do me a favour. Next time you get in your car, break the boredom of driving and communicate with those around you; give them a few friendly honks. You’ll probably get an interesting array of responses back. But until Canadian driving includes more common sense and warmth, fewer rules, smaller roads, and fewer weird little lines drawn all over them, you probably won’t catch me behind the wheel.
Now you go...
Got something to say?