Rantopolis

Carducation: I am flunking

In the interest of full disclosure, I’ve just downed a glass of white wine in advance of the American Music Awards.  This was prompted by my traumatic Carducation.  So, what I type may or may not make sense.  I’m assuming that I will be amused tomorrow when I read some of this dyslexia.  Or not.

But wait.  This post is not going to be about an egregious grigio.  It’s about how I’m failing my Carducation.  Yes, new word.  Learn it.  Carducation.  It’s what you have to go through when you get a new car.

Fright night.

Rewind to 1969 when I first sat behind the wheel of a new car.  Transmission shift on the column.  Radio push button presets.  Headlights.  Wipers. Manual seat adjustment.  Yeah, that was pretty much it. Took maybe 45 seconds to learn where everything was and how to operate the car.  Other than remembering to put gas in the tank, that was pretty much it.  Key in the ignition, turn it, drive.  The end.

Fast forward to the present.  I have been in possession of my 2012 Mercedes C class for a total of five six days now.  I am now under the assumption that I have to go back to college to complete my Carducation.

Don't let the pretty graphics lull you into a false sense of security. Satan wrote the code for this thing.

I feel like I’ve been living in a cave for two decades eating bats for sustenance. They gave me five different books as part of the new owners package. Five books.  I had fewer books for college algebra.  They don’t even fit in the door compartment.  I am going to need hours of tutorial to figure out how to use the voice command and navigation alone.

And since I’m talking about the voice command,  I don’t think it’s been programmed to understand swear words.   Gross oversight by the manufacturer, IMO. I know this because I told it several times that it was a beotch and a fook pig.  The response?

“I do not understand, please repeat.”

Sure, no problem.  You are a beotch and a fook pig.

“I do not understand, please repeat.”

Once again, you are a beotch and a fook pig.

“Cancelling voice command.”

Yeah, that’s it.  Run away like the little beotch that you are.

Hold on.  Do you realize that you are swearing at a microchip?  Very mature.

That alone send me back indoors and right to the pinot grigio.   I may end up in twelve-step program before this is all over.  Just sayin.

Categories: Car drama , Technology drama

3 comments

1 Suzanne { 11.20.11 at 9:43 pm }

I feel your pain. Did you know the auto spell on this thing will not allow me to use your new slant on education or the swear words! Aggravating! You fighting with a micro chip and me with an auto spell check! Grrrrr

2 Sophia { 11.20.11 at 9:47 pm }

Sure, it’ll let you spell however you want to spell. Just ignore the red squiggly line.

3 Venti With The Girls { 11.21.11 at 10:05 pm }

That sounds close to an automated phone call I was trying to get through on the other day. It didn’t understand simple words, so I “jazzed up” the vocabulary a bit. I think it might have finally understood me because it responded with “I’m sorry, let me connect you to an agent.”