Road Rage.. Again.

I was on my way to the bank. It was the very beginning of rush hour. Approaching an intersection with a left-turn only lane, the car in front of me happened to be the very last who could try to fit in this left-turn only lane. It's tail still stuck out on my lane, so, having common sense, I slowed to a stop and waited for the line to move, as the left arrow had just turned green. Someone honked as he passed me, looking at me. I didn't know why. I guess in this guy's little world everyone did things just to inconvenience him. Sure, I wasn't in a hurry, but why would I just stop dead in the middle of the road, if not for a good reason (i.e. avoiding an obvious collision.. that he could see, had he looked past the end of his nose). It was my time wasted too! (oh no! two whole seconds that I had to stand still and listen to my audiobook instead) Why do people need to be reminded of this?? I just raised my eyebrows at him, questioning expression, since I had no idea what I did wrong.
I got to where I needed to turn onto the interstate. I had to yield to oncoming traffic, since it was a left turn. I considered trying for a small window between cars, reasoning that I should be courteous to the people waiting behind me. I began to accelerate.. but then I heard a honk from behind.
Instantaneously, (yes, women thoughts do run this fast at times) I realized that in being courteous to those behind me, I would be rude to those I would be driving in front of. Thus, if I had to choose which group of people to be rude to, it would plainly be those that have not been rude to me first, so... having moved a whole of 3 inches into my acceleration, I stopped again.
And gave him the bird. I made sure it was against my windshield so he could see the silhouette clearly.
His hands began moving.. not just flipping me off back.. but more of some enraged form that I can only imagine the deaf would interpret as irate baby-talk. When he noticed I was looking in my rear-view mirror, he dramatically pointed to his phone.
That would be an interesting conversation. "Do you know why I pulled you over?" "No, officer." "Well, we got a complaint about someone breaking too much." "Yup, I've been avoiding accidents all day. Should I stop?"
So when we got on the interstate, he got up along side of me so he could lean way over into the passenger seat (would have been out the window, had his window been rolled down) with the most emphasis I've ever seen given to a hand gesture. I raised my eyebrows, smiled slightly and nodded, as I was humoring a very young child. I was thinking, "Yea, you think you're right. The world will end before you question this, which is what causes you to continue to be ignorant. Your mother must be so proud."
As I glanced at him, out of the corner of my eye I noticed the slumped-over figure of a youth, hiding his face. And in that youth, I saw myself wallowing in shame in my dad's car. I hope that youth sees the man for the ass I always saw my dad to be. I hope that youth grows up to be intolerant of road rage as I am, reacting to frustrating situations on the road with pity for those who will learn the meaning of darwinism soon enough.