JAN 26, 2009 – 12:00AM

I’ve always been impressed with the range of messages that can be sent by a simple car horn.

For the most part, car horns are monotone and fixed of volume, yet depending on duration and context, they can convey anything from a simple, “Hi,” to a more urgent, “Pardon me, but you seem to be encroaching upon my lane,” to the considerably more frantic, “RUN, RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!!!!!!! HORRIFIC CREATURES HELL-BENT ON OUR DESTRUCTION APPROACH!!!!! RUN!!!! OUR DOOM IS NIGH!!!!!!!!!!!”

As a longtime cyclist, I’ve been on the receiving end of honks on both ends of the spectrum, though, now that I think about it, I’ve been spared most toots on the apocalyptic end.

Most honks my direction are cautionary in nature: “I’m not stopping,” or, “Look out!,” or, “Don’t take any more lane or you’ll be a hood ornament.”

Occasionally, they’re friendly shout-outs. Infrequently, they’re malicious.

I’ve never understood the allure of coming up behind a cyclist and laying on the horn. Good one. Gets me every time.

I’ve known people who claim always to give a quick little toot when approaching a cyclist from behind, “Just to let ’em know I’m there.” Though most folks so inclined generally are well intentioned, I usually assure them we two-wheeled folks don’t need any special considerations and that, sometimes, such actions can be startling at best and could be construed as threatening at worst. But it’s not a battle worth fighting.

And then there are the out-of-the-blue weird Horatio horn-blowers.

Once I was stopped at a red light in the center lane at a three-lane intersection (left turn, straight, right turn). An older gentleman came right up behind me and started honking away. I turned around thinking he needed assistance or that, maybe, my hair was on fire and he was trying to alert me. He barely looked up, but kept blowing his own horn, which he kept doing until the light changed.

I went through the green and moved far right, at which point the driver passed, politely enough, though he didn’t even make eye contact.

All I can figure is, he simply wanted me to get out of his way.

Where he wanted me to go, I still don’t know.

At an intersection just about a block away, I later was the target of a decidedly more threatening honker.

I was slowing as I approached a stop sign and heard a car approaching from the rear.

As I came to a stop, the driver behind me — still several yards away — leaned on his horn and didn’t let up. I stopped, then proceeded through the four-way stop when it was my turn, and still the horn was sounding.

The car actually was a van, a service vehicle for Belfor USA, and as soon as it cleared the intersection, it came zipping past me, fast and close enough to send a message, then cut right in front of me, close enough to reiterate the message. All the while, the horn was sounding.

Obviously, I had held up Mr. Belfor, and he was none too happy.

Never mind that, had I been in a car ahead of him, he still would have been behind me, and I’m not sure I would have been any faster on four wheels than on two. I’m not sure I delayed him at all; obviously, he has bike issues.

I thought about calling Belfor USA and complaining about the company’s idiotic driver (note to idiotic drivers: Don’t fly the company colors if you’re going to drive like an idiot), but realized there really was no point.

“So, he HONKED at you?”

“Well, yes. It was a mean honk.”

“A mean honk?”

“Uh, yeah. He was mean.”

“Oh, OK. We’ll, uh, have a talk with him.”

So I didn’t bother.

But you’d better believe I’ll never spend a dime with Belfor USA.

Unless, of course, it turns out to be a company that manufactures automobile horns. In that case, maybe Mr. Horn-y was just doing a little product testing.