OK. Seriously? You come racing down my street, turn around at the dead end, race back down the other way - then slam on the brakes and HONK AT ME while I’m in my yard playing with my kid? You shout “how do I get to the highway?” — no hi, no excuse me, no please? (For the record, it’s the way the arrow pointed on the ‘no highway access’ sign that you just drove by, idiot.) Then you drive off and don’t say thanks?
I’m at home. It’s a Sunday. I am NOT IN A CAR. DO NOT HONK AT ME.
Based just on this very limited experience, I’m willing to say that you might be the biggest asshole I’ve ever met. It’s almost like you’re some kind of performance art project, in which someone tried to act like the ur-asshole. (Also your douchey little Audi doesn’t help; it sounds like an angry spoiled bee.)
Anyway, I hope you made it to wherever you were going, and then someone keyed your car and broke your nose. Happy Sunday!