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Last week, I found I had free time. I cannot recall the last time that happened, probably because my memory is beginning to go, too. So, I sat at my idle keyboard trying to decide whether to open a branch office or take a nap when the telephone rang. (Or, whatever they call the sounds phones make these days – it made one.)
“Hello?”
“Hello,” crooned a cute female voice. “May I please speak to Mister Hank Burden?” I knew she was cute because I have a sixth sense about such things. It is a kind of biological radar.
Right away, the “mister” put me on alert. I got ready to fend off a sales call.
“You’re talking to him,” I said brusquely.
“Good. My name is Melody and I am calling from BMW.”
“Sorry honey, I just bought one 2 years ago and the ashtrays aren’t full yet.” (I am at my wittiest on these occasions.)
“No, no sir, I don’t sell cars. Your car contacted us last evening and reported a problem with the brake fluid. I am calling to set an appointment to service the car.”
“Uh, my car called you?”
“Yes sir. It’s part of our maintenance plan.”
“And it told you the brake fluid needed service?”
“Yes sir, that is correct. Also, I see here you have not contacted us regarding the recall notice we sent three months ago.”
“Uh, recall notice? Well, I have been busy.
“Of course you have, poor baby. Why don’t we just set an appointment for you to bring your sweet, long-suffering car into our shop and we’ll take care of all these little problems?” She was positively cooing.
“What else did my car tell you?” I was thinking “… that lying rat bastard,” but I didn’t say it aloud.
“Well, nothing, really, just small talk, you know how chatty cars can be.”
“I do now.”
In ten seconds, I had an appointment for early next week. The revelation that my car was chatting up complete strangers while I slept ruined my chance for a nap.
Until I figure a way to control this “feature”, I will be very discreet about what I say and where I go in my car. I have been meaning to ride my motorcycle more, anyway. I am almost positive it doesn’t have a phone.
...
This is nothing. Do you remember the stories of the annoying car whose lady voice would nag at you---put on seat belt, put on seat belt, the door is ajar, the door is ajar, etc. They never could convince her that a door is a door!!! Unless you are emulating the Bandit (see Smoky and the Bandit I, II, III, et al), it's a pretty nice perk to have your car act as your automotive secretary. You need to have a more positive outlook about the advantages that technology offers if you are not a scofflaw. BTW, I have one of those FasTrac devices for Calif. toll roads. If the CHP isn't tracking me through that thing, your car's talking to the dealer is a good thing. And you even got to talk to a sweet young voice that made you feel like a REAL man. How can that be bad? Especially when the motorcycle makes you feel like an achy old man!!! BR
ReplyDeleteIn the old days, the auto insulted your intelligence to your face. Now, they talk about you behind your back.
ReplyDeleteNow that you mention it I DO feel like a REAL [old] man.
That sounds like a real neat feature if you own a BMW service centre:)
ReplyDeleteWow. I wonder if your BMW has a hidden
ReplyDeletecamera, and the good corporate folks sit back with a cold one, watching your every move! I
would even pop some popcorn for that one. Better
than than going to the movies!
E
Probably. I'm sure many could learn SOMETHING from watching my moves. Probably How not to...
ReplyDeleteIt is getting to the point you can't even trust your car. What's next? The toilet roll, perhaps? Wait and see who calls you.
Me thinks you are getting a bit paranoid old fella:>))
ReplyDeleteMitch
The brilliance of BMW continues to shine! That's your BMW Assist service, picking up electronic warnings and taking care of you! Your job is to drive and have fun, Hank -- your car's job is to make it a pleasure! Laurie (from BMW of Dallas)
ReplyDeleteWelcome back, Laurie! :)
ReplyDelete