Turning Red On Right

There I was stopped at a red light preparing to make a right turn. It's a busy intersection, the one with the red light. To my left, preparing to go through the intersection when our light turned green, was one of those big and pointless trucks. You know the ones. The tires themselves are about twice the height of most professional basketball players. Getting into the cabs of those things requires a step ladder or an elevator. The only way I could have possibly seen the traffic entering and crossing the intersection on their green light would have been to get out of my Jeep and look under the behemoth to my left.
So naturally the person in the car behind me -- also waiting to make a right turn -- began honking at me so incessantly that the behemoth human looked down at me -- literally -- shrugged his shoulders and laughed. While delightful, that nonverbal communication in no way informed me as to whether or not I could safely make a right turn on my red light.
I decided to wait out the light despite the incessant honking coming from the car behind me. Our light did turn green and I made my right turn. That wasn't good enough, apparently, for the honker who pulled up beside me. I refused to make eye contact despite the continued honking. Then the driver pulled in back of me and continued honking. I began to worry that I had become one of those around the campfire horror story characters. Perhaps there was a dark stranger hovering behind me wielding a knife or a chainsaw or water balloons. Maybe the honking driver was only trying to save my life. I changed lanes just to see what would happen. The honker changed lanes, too. This was getting pretty stupid. When the honker again pulled into the lane beside me, I made eye contact just to bring the drama to a close. I got the requisite finger and the wordless curse. I blew the driver a kiss and mouthed the words, "I love you, too." Apparently that was too much to bear and the driver gunned the engine onto a freeway ramp. Luckily it was a ramp for entering and not exiting. I certainly wished the driver no ill will just better manners.
I guess everything worked out okay. The driver only blasted me with words and fingers. There were no other weapons involved.
Woody Allen once observed that California's only cultural accomplishment was the ability to make a right turn on a red light.
Apparently that ability is no longer much of an accomplishment.