The Old Coot is keyed up. Again.

What are they thinking? The engineers who design modern automobiles. I’ve been on this rant before, but the idiocy keeps slapping me up-side-the-head. It came to roost again two weeks ago when I rented a car and then again just the other day when I took a test drive. It was the keys that set me off! Those stupid electronic devices “they” thought were an improvement over a simple metal key that worked just fine. The starting device for the rental car was embedded in a two-inch square container with an oblong protuberance that folded out of the case. The protuberance is what you slid into a tiny, square opening on the steering column to start the vehicle. To start the test drive car, I was handed an Oreo cookie on a key chain. It took a while, but I finally figured out that the “cookie” had to be wedged into a slim slit in the dashboard. All I can say is, “STUPID! STUPID! STUPID!” You can’t just hop into a strange car and drive away; you need a lesson first.

Why did it happen? No car owner I know ever complained about the key, certainly never asked to have it replaced with a device that has a battery, a computer chip, costs hundreds of dollars and can’t be replaced without taking out a second mortgage. Thirty or so years ago, the engineers of the day, redesigned the key so you could put it in right side up or upside down. Now that was an improvement! But, these new keys, all I can say is, “WHAT ARE THEY THINKING?”

And, how about that “check engine” light? That amber, glowing icon that most of us have been annoyed by at one time or another. It sets us on edge. What should I do? Is the engine about to blow up? Should I pull over and call AAA? Eventually, we learn, it almost never has anything to do with the engine. It keeps us in a state of terror because we didn’t tighten the gas cap properly or some minuscule environmental component is having a bad day. The only time I want to see an alarm is when the motor is about to be destroyed, the temperature is about to go through the roof or the oil pressure is heading toward zero. That’s what I want, but what I get is an amber icon glowing at me from the dash for no good reason, which is why I cover it up with a small strip of black electrical tape. 

Unfortunately I can’t do that with the tire symbol that turns on every time the weather changes. It’s in the wrong spot, so I talk to it, just like I talk to the radio and the TV when I hear something I don’t like. “What do you want me to do,” I say to the tire icon. “Nobody has a decent tire gauge or an air compressor that works with any efficiency any more. So, leave me alone.” (Scott Smith and Son does have a free tire pump that works great, but there is only one Scott Smith and Son. The other ten million gas stations charge you a buck or more for a few paltry compressor minutes that force you to rush around from tire to tire to identify the suspect and then wait an eternity for the pump to push in 2 or 3 pounds of air.

But, an even worse output from the geniuses designing cars are the touch screens that replace the knobs and levers that control the heater fan, the direction of the air, the radio volume and several other functions that need tending to as we drive along. Functions, you used to be able to engage by feel, keeping your eyes on the road. Now, you have to glance over and aim your finger at an icon, an up or down arrow or some such indicator, and hope you don’t crash into someone on the road ahead. It’s distracted driving, well beyond talking on a cell phone. But, it’s legal!  

And, when you buy a car, the only thing that the salespeople rave about are the frills: blue tooth, USB ports, back up cameras, satellite radio, etc. Nothing about the drive train or the important components of the car. I think it’s a distraction, so we won’t ask them where the bumpers are. Those strong shinny things that were so useful and so strong that when you rented a u-haul trailer and didn’t have a hitch, which was true for most of us, an attendant just strapped a temporary hitch to our bumper and off we went. Now, we have this plastic atrocity that shatters if you look at it sideways. You don’t dare push a friends car; if you do, both of your bumpers will get mashed. I’d like to go on, but you know the rest of the story; you suffer with it every day. WHAT ARE THEY THINKING?   

Comments, complaints?  Email to mlessler7@gmail.com.