Unlike so many drivers, my personality does not transmogrify the moment I get behind the wheel of my car. I'm an intolerant and contemptuous old sod wherever I am.
But I'm working on it.
And so it was that I found myself driving to Broughty Ferry for my mandatory morning coffee when - suddenly and without warning - the car I was following took a sharp right turn.
It was at that point that I blasted my blasted horn.
I was not able to register the complexion on the face of the poor young girl who was the target of my two-note concerto because, in the short time it took for her to turn around, all colour had drained away.
But I would like you to understand that I was acting as a good citizen and a thoughtful road user.
You see, by tooting, it might just be possible that this particular offender reproaches herself on how she approaches junctions in the future. She could save a life. Maybe even her own.
And it was all down to me.
So come on, all those in favour of big hooters, let's all have a peep.