Bike Horns - A True Cautionary Tale by Eddie

Bike horns became a part of my life when I was 19 years old. I was instantly hooked -- there was none of that "only on the weekends," or "I'll only stay up for two days tooting my horns." I eventually tried to do that, but control was impossible. I was powerless over bike horns; I just didn't realize it or wouldn't admit it at the time. I couldn't quit. I used to google images of bike horns almost every day for seven months and then I hit bottom. Seven months. That’s all it took for me to lose everything.

When I started my obsession with bike horns, the only thing I knew about it was that they were horns for your bike, they went “toot toot” when you honked them. At the time, I had the mentality that "it" wasn't going to happen to me. I would never become obsessed with that sweet sweet “toot” sound.

Over the next seven months, bike horns became the most important thing in my life. Everything I did, I did to get more bike horns and to google more images of bike horns. I didn't know what else to do. I stopped talking to my family because I didn't want them to know about my little secret. I smuggled bike horns in with me to work and I was tired because I hadn't slept in days, so many nights had I poured over images of bike horns. I only called my mom to borrow money. I wasn't able to pay my car payment, car insurance, rent, or any other bills because I spent my money on bike horns. I lost sixty pounds because I didn't eat when I was fawning over my bike horns.  Maintaining my hair, brushing my teeth and showering regularly was impossible for me, so I just quit doing it. I used people and manipulated people for more bike horns. I began to consider taking up male stripping so I could have more money to buy more bike horns.

I changed my values so they matched my behavior; it was "right" if it got me access to more hot bike horns. I tried to jump out of a car moving at over seventy miles per hour to grab at a little kid’s horn, and yet I kept buying bike horns. I blacked out and hallucinated about the exotic honks of “Winnie the Pooh and Tigger Too” bike horns, and even that didn’t stop me. Some would say I had a choice: bike horns or a life -- and I chose bike horns. Before I squeezed that first bicycle horn, I did have a choice. After that, I was in the grip of a disease more powerful than myself. I lived to honk and honked to live. There was no choice, I had to get toot and toot the horns. I did anything to get more bike horns. I even went to jail for bike horns.