When I was little, my aunt had a car that spoke. Remember those? If your car door was open, the car would say (in its 80’s robot voice) “Your door is ajar.” I think it also said other things, but I don’t remember them. I spent most of the time opening and closing the door while it was parked, so “your door is ajar” is what I remember best. It was as though I was in my own personal episode of Knight Rider – except that I didn’t drive anywhere and the voice didn’t sound like Mr. Feeny from Boy Meets World or John Adams from 1776.
Considering we had talking cars in the 80s, you would think all cars today would be equipped with Siri-type personal assistants who could also help you solve crime. Instead, my car just nags at me with an annoying beep every time I leave something heavy on the passenger seat.
Today, I had to transport some heavy equipment from my first job to my second job. I stacked it all on a cart and wheeled it out to my car. When I opened the back hatch, I found that Jim had left his bowling balls in the back. By bowling “balls” I mean an entire suitcase of bowling balls that Jim needs to take with him every Monday night because one ball just isn’t enough. I couldn’t fit the equipment in the back without moving the balls, but the only place I could put them was on the floor in front of the passenger seat.
This wasn’t a problem until I got in my car at the end of the day. Apparently, the 50 lbs. of balls, shoes, and rosin were enough to set off the passenger seat sensor that tattles on anyone who sits in the seat without buckling. It started off as a slow “beep…….beep……..beep.” The longer I drove, the quicker and louder it got until it was all, “BEEP…BEEP..BEEP BEEPBEEPBEEEP..BEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!!!!!!”
Really, Toyota? This is the automotive equivalent of “Mom! He’s touching me! Stop touching meeeee!!!! Mooooooommmmmyyyy!!!!”
It’s 2013. By now, my car should be brewing my coffee and cutting my hair. At the very least, cars should politely clear their throats in an “ahem” fashion instead of rudely beeping at people who are perfectly capable of choosing whether or not they wear their seatbelts.
Get on that, car designers.