Renting a car used to come with an element of fun. For a day or two you could be the pretend owner of a new car. It could be the sports car you have always secretly wanted, maybe in bright red. It could be a mighty utility vehicle you need instead of your 4-door sedan.
In any case, it’s just interesting to experience a new and different car over a limited period, if only to mix things up a bit.
I’ve always enjoyed this, until now.
I innocently rented a new model SUV and hopped in not thinking much more about it. It had a control panel on two big screens with very few physical knobs, which means essentially learning to operate software. Should have pulled over and examined the thing carefully, maybe even read the user manual but traditionally cars explained themselves. Everything was obvious.
Not any more.
The radio was stuck on a guy yammering about sports scores so I thought I would change the station. I’m trying to drive at the same time and looking at the screen with peripheral vision. That’s when the car caught me: it sensed distraction.
Up popped a notification alongside 5 extremely annoying alarm beeps, with a blaring warning: “Consider taking a break” with a coffee cup emoji. That’s strange. I’m not tired. I just started. Why should I take a break?
My car was correcting me. Not only that, it was diagnosing my biology. I was drifting and so clearly did not have enough caffeine in my system and needed more. So said my car.
Thus was my introduction to the new smart car, more monitor than helper, more surveillance than service, more sensate than safe.
I grabbed a tissue while searching for the off switch to the radio and up popped the same warning again. This was only a few minutes later. I wondered how long this would go on. I had two and a half hours to drive. This could be miserable.
It was in fact. My car monitored, hectored, and lectured me for my entire trip. It more closely tracked my venial sins than a Puritan preacher in 17th-century Plymouth Colony. At least in that world, privacy was possible. It is not possible in this new car. You are under the gun, tasked with impossible feats of digital management at which you are destined to fail.
The ever-pious, self satisfied, and immaculately conceived robo-scold seems gleeful to call out every infraction, even when a gust of wind causes a two-inch draft. FAIL!
This car is rooting against its driver, like a horse not entirely broken in and trying to buck you off. But it’s more threatening than that. It’s watching you constantly but you don’t know where its eyes are or why precisely it is making the judgments it is making.
While still fussing with the radio, a big message appeared on the screen, which I tried to read while driving. Another sin. As best I could make out, it said not to attempt this while driving because it is unsafe. And if I have read this message and understand the risk, and accept the terms of the software app, I should click approve, which I did, while driving.
Like clockwork, up appeared the demand that I stop and drink another cup of coffee. If I had complied with the doctor/car physician’s demands, I would have had a gallon of coffee and been taken to the hospital for a caffeine overdose.
The roadside signs all say not to text and drive or otherwise look at your smartphone. But this entire car is far more distracting than my phone would otherwise be. I’m only mentioning a few of these notifications so far.
Hellbound and Down 