I used to be quite the grease monkey. Growing up on a farm left you little choice. One of our farm trucks was a 1949 Dodge. We couldn’t afford a mechanic, so it was just natural to develop those shade-tree skills.
When I moved to Montgomery my friends were quick to pick up on the fact that they could come to me with their own car problems. I’ve done almost every kind of repair there is and even changed the motor in my 1980 Chevy Van because I loved that machine too much to part with it when the motor blew.
But that was then and this is now. I have either killed off too many brain cells as I’ve gotten older, or technology has simply jumped ahead so fast that I haven’t been able to keep up with it. It’s probably a little of both. I’m going to give you several true-life examples, and I’m only going to use the vehicle I’m driving now.
I bought this 2013 Volkswagen Passat in September 2015. Maggie moved to Virginia in December, leaving me to face the Milwaukee winter alone. And I froze my tush off. It dipped below zero many times and those fancy leather seats were a nightmare.
Finally in March it got up to 70 degrees. As I was driving to the store, I noticed two buttons on the console with images of what looked like car seats. I took out my manual and looked it up. I almost cried. I had heated seats.
After moving back to Alabama, I had my cousin Martha Templeton in the car. My cell phone rang and she asked why I didn’t answer. I explained it was because I couldn’t hear while driving. “But you have a phone system in your car.”
I thought that required a special service, but she took my phone, clicked a few buttons, and… voila, my cell was linked to my car. Now I can just say someone’s name and my car will dial them, and the voice comes over the radio speakers loud and clear.
Last week I backed out of my driveway and broke my side-view mirror on a tree. When I went to order a replacement, the guys asked, “Do you have heated mirrors?” I just dropped my head as I went to look. Of course I did. That explains why I rolled down the window all winter to wipe the mirror clean.
This car is making me feel so stupid. I usually rely on women for that. But the day someone asks why I’m not using my car in flying mode, that’s the day I trade it in on a 1949 Dodge.
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