Yes, you certainly do own a fine and beautiful automobile. I believe it's a Bentuar, or a Jagley, if my broad knowledge of today's ridiculous luxury vehicles serves me well.
You do not, however, by extension or entitlement, own the Chicago city street on which you and I are currently both traveling.
More to the point, do you have any idea what a great experiential discrepancy there exists between you and me when you decide to honk (from your car) at me (on my bike) -- for reasons I still can't figure out?*
From the surround-sound, air-conditioned, privileged interior of your car, you are perhaps slightly annoyed by my presence, and clearly think nothing of laying all over your horn, and motoring blithely on your way.
From astride my old and rapidly rusting bicycle, burdened with heavy cargo (and no, I don't mean my ass), exposed to all elements both natural and unnatural, I am violently physically startled and almost knocked off my shaky seat by my instinctive physical reaction to the the abrupt and very jarring noise of your horn.
You go on, comfortable, safe, and protected by layers of steel. I go on, my heart pounding and my entire body shaking for several blocks.
All of this is my careful, detailed, and probably unnecessary way of saying what I finally yelled at you after regaining something resembling my composure after today's encounter: "F*CK OFF!"
*Seriously, what was that about? I was not in your way. There was no other traffic on the block. I was not impeding your travel in the least. I wasn't wearing a tank top, or a "Buck Fush" t-shirt, or anything else that might have prompted your jerkass reaction. What?!