The Morning Commute

We live in the quietest little suburb outside of Paris at the tail-end of La Grande Rue that runs through town.  It's a single lane street with about three places for passing.  When two cars turn down the street at the same time, one must give way to the other.  

It's a quiet French town like the one Belle sings of, yet almost every morning when people begin their morning commute you can hear the horns honking impatiently.  It's so funny.  There's not much that anyone could do to make the situation move any quicker, but still, they honk.  And it all feels very French.