Oprah and I have long appreciated the simple pleasure that is the Thank You Wave: that little hand-flip gesture-and-a-smile from another driver administered after:

• You have allowed the driver to move into your lane, presume the right of way, etc., or;
• That driver has just committed a traffic foul, but wishes to apologize.

You know it.

People could commit all manner of otherwise egregious traffic errors against me — from cutting me off; to sideswiping me and tearing off a rearview mirror; to plowing into the exhaust pipe, ripping it off with their sandpaper hands and holding the shardy pipe against my neck (silent revolver in the other hand); to goodness knows what else — but as long as I get The Wave, I’m not merely pacified; it’s as if they’ve become my 5-minute personal hero, an automotive Prince Valiant.

The thing is — and I suppose this falls under the “Southern Hospitality” deal — people here in NC wave at everything.

I’ll be driving down the street and strangers are just waaaaaavin’ and smiiiiiiiilin’.

It’s nice, I suppose, but. … It’s nice. I’m just thrown.