High School Is a Brutal Buisness

In high school I had a good friend named Dave. His brother Reese got his first car from his mom. It had a horn.
A special horn.
It had this control box about the size of a paperback book. It had a dozen or so buttons and each one played a different tune.
It was like the ringtone of the 80's. It would honk out Dixie, the Mexican hat dance, La Cucaracha etc.

Reese's best friend was Scott.
(Scott later became our best friend because we rocked and Reese didn't. Reese can invest the hell out of your money for you...but he was never much fun to party with.)
We would roll up to a light and stop....if the person in the car next to us was a young lady
(or better yet? Ladies.)
Scott would glance back into the back seat, give Dave and myself the nod and we would all drop down so that it appeared to onlookers that Reese was traveling alone.
If it was a Black girl he'd play Dixie. Hispanic girl? La Cucaracha.
Then Scott would say, "did she look?"
Reese would would say, without moving his lips "Yeah, she looked. Now get up."
Scott would hit it again." now what?"
Reese: knock it off! She's giving me dirty looks!
Scott would hit it once more.
Reese: Ok cut the shit! She just flipped me off and rolled up her window!
The great thing about this was that Reese couldn't do what he wanted most in the world to do which was to yell and scream at us.
Bad enough that he appears to be an asshole for repeatedly honking his obnoxious horn but to be seen yelling to himself, like a maniac in an empty car, would be too much.