I´m so fed up with B flat

If I open the door it pings. When I drive it pings. If the gas is running low it pings. Give me a car that does what I tell it to do and shuts up. 

I’m so fed up with B flat. The tone keeps ringing in my head since six months back. Myran bought a Jeep Commander. I bought a Dodge RAM. Something I regret every day. I mean every day. Never ever buying a car with pinging and blinking in my face again.

The engine light used to be something fancy. The one who had one was very fortunate. Today it’s a lit zit on my dashboard. The car has gone from being a faithful partner in crime for hundred years to being this annoying whiny weirdo.

And all it takes to set it off is by opening the door to the Jeep. – Beep Beep.
– The key is in.
You get a lousy first impression and get very ill received.
B flat B flat B flat two pings’ every second.

– For heaven’s sake, it’s polite that the key is in the ignition. It’s a lovely welcome but this dude starts crying like a baby as soon as I open the door.

Dodge RAM does the same thing. When I put it in reverse then here comes the beeping again!! Yup. Honk! That’s what it does if you try to back it up with the door open. The first time it happened I got really mad. Now I don’t care. The entire town knows when Krantz is backing up to the mailbox with one leg outside and the door at end.

I have a loose wire on the plate light. On dirt roads it pings in every bump plus the broken light-light shoots up. It’s supposed to be an intelligent function from Dodge. Beep broken light, beep ok, beep broken light, beep ok, beep… It sure looks intelligent after an hour of that. Dodge would better spend their time if they concentrated on making plate lights instead of doodling around with a light for lights.

The engine light on the Jeep lit up a week ago. My son had the patience of turning and turning and turning the ignition key and came to the conclusion that it was lit because of the gear box. We opened the hood and…. NO DIPSTICK. The pipe was there but it was empty.

Jeeps’ are no longer delivered with a dipstick for the automatic transmission. It waits in a body shop. Talk about guardian ship. It costs 70 000 $ but it’s impossible to check the oil. Volvo comes without a spare tire. The lawn tractor I bought took me a day to make it useable. Because it doesn’t run if you’re not in the seat and it doesn’t mow grass and it doesn’t start with the knife activated. Took me a day to rewire the thing and make it functional.

And how did we imagine great living?
For robots and machines to serve us. Computers shall be subordinate to man. There are some really great motion pictures of how it will turn out otherwise.
– Doesn’t that apply to vehicles?

How did it turn out like this? Do the design departments only consist of vehicular haters? Are their computer nerds there? Gamers? Apparently guardians with wiseacre-b flats in their beeping boxes.

No romantic cruisers are working there, creating hidden mood lights with dimmers and porno lights that change color according to programmed calendars all the way to 2040. No backseats that turns into water beds, dashboards that changes into guitars when you play Chuck Berry and a dab of Elvis perfume when Hound Dog comes through the speakers. Nothing sensual. Tempting. Like before. A-tracks and glass vases. A lit up make up mirror and chromed napkin holder.

Yesterday it was Friday night so Myran and I took the Jeep for a spin out on the town. It was impossible to have a conversation in the Jeep. The belt warning alarm kept beeping like crazy. My sweet Bonneville 66 doesn’t care about that. The light goes on when I open the door. The keys wiggle their hips in the ignition before I slide onto the seat. I look into the steel on the dashboard. On the dark purple Brougham upholstery with ornaments. On the sleek inner ceiling.

– Hey, shall we cozy it up, it says.

I have made up my mind. Never again a beeping music box. Never again a car with the dipstick still in the city. Never again a car with such a totally stupid dohicky like an engine light in the coupé.