Hands Free? Not for Me!
Have you ever just been minding your own business when something reaches out, grabs your attention, and all you can ask is, “What?” “Why?” and “Who thought that was a good idea?” Happened to me just the other night.
I was watching college football when a commercial came on. Normally, I mute the sound so I’m spared having to listen to the same advertisements that loop themselves ad nauseam. Let me tell you—by the end of the UGA–Marshall game, I could certainly advise you on the best prescription for persistent eczema (and all its side effects as well).
But the ad that caught my eye—and that I chose not to mute—was for a car. Of course, the ad touted all the usual reasons why this model was the best one on the road and the only one worthy of my consideration. And it did have a display of helpful, not to say self-indulgent, features to afford one a premium driving experience (at a premium add-on cost).
One of the key features the manufacturer seemed most excited to share was the vehicle’s offering of “hands-free driving.” To emphasize why this particular option was second only to the invention of the internal combustion engine, a young lady showed us how she was able, no doubt at highway speeds, to address her full attention to the console radio while searching for a station—allowing her to close her eyes while conducting music with both her hands. Oh, but I mean she was having a lovely time. Now, we all know that all she had to do was talk to the “radio,” and the AI assistant that lives inside it would have cheerfully located any genre of music she fancied, even down to a specific tune. But apparently, this would have dampened her ability to take her eyes off the road while she stared down at the floorboard, fiddling with everything but the steering wheel.
You see, what I was to understand in the absolute freedom afforded this young lady is that the car’s steering wheel had been rendered moot. It was now an extraneous accessory. Might as well have been a cigarette lighter! Remember the old rental car commercial whose slogan was “Leave the driving to us?” I knew I hadn’t heard the last of that one.
Sadly, I found myself unable to share vicariously in this person’s ecstasy in conducting music in her conscious abandonment of the responsibility to drive the vehicle. I asked the question, “Why?” Who, exactly, is clamoring for this feature, and what people in a boardroom somewhere all agreed this was a good idea? I mean, what could go wrong, right?
I guess if I’m destined to plow at full speed into the rear of a semi that has, for no reason I can discern, decided to come to a complete stop, I would at least prefer them to find me with my hands on the wheel and not obliviously spread akimbo conducting Mozart.
So let me get this right. Instead of driving with both hands on the wheel (oh, to bear such an inconvenience), affording me the best chance of averting or taking countermeasures should the situation arise, I am better served by folding those same hands in my lap—six inches below where they were on the wheel—or, if I choose, completing my grocery list or checking my golf scorecard.
I wonder what kind of premium seatbelts are offered. They would have to be to overcome the g-forces of a sudden stop at highway speeds that would propel one completely through the windshield. Disclaimer: Consider not adding this feature if you value your ribcage.
Driving, as I often do, the backroads of White County at dusk, with heavy woods on either side of me, I try to remain ever vigilant to the deer that might just decide to leap into the road in front of the grille of my pickup. Not to say I could prevent the collision—and I’m certainly no AI bot—but I favor my chances if I’m actually scanning the road, adjusting to the circumstances, and white-knuckling the steering wheel. Pretty sure if I’m ejected from the vehicle, the last thing I’m going to do is try and grab that half-finished grocery list on my way out!