Several weeks ago my wife bought a new car, which is a pretty big deal in our world because the last one she bought was ten years ago. It’s also kind of big deal for us because we bought a Nissan Leaf, which is a total electric vehicle. It is well-known, like world-wide, that I am the cheapest guy on the planet (although I might argue, “thrifty” as a better word choice) and the idea of not paying for gas was kind of appealing.
As a guy, I would not normally be inclined to read an owners manual…because…well…I’m a guy, and also because the manual is more than one page long, which in my mind, means it’s going to be hard. It’s a car for crying out loud. Pretty much anyone with $25 and four brain cells can get a driver’s license, so why must the manual to operate the thing be 20 times longer than the study guide for obtaining a license?
Putting my rising blood pressure aside for a moment and replacing it with my colorful cap of both optimism and pragmatism, I have to say the car is pretty nifty. It’s loaded with all kinds of groovy technology, has a lot of moving parts, it’s fast, and while I wouldn’t describe it as sexy, the first three items appeal to my stereotypically manly nature. Soooooo, after driving the car for a few days and staring at the phone-book-like mass of an owner’s manual, I figured, since the car is jammed with all kinds of technology they weren’t stuffing into mini vans 10 years ago; perhaps it might make sense to take a crack a the owner’s manual.
For the past three weeks, each day whilst eating my lunch, I’ve ploughed through a few more pages of the book. The pages are not numbered, but I figure there are between 300 and 400 pages in this sucker. As of today I’m about half way through. If you are actually still reading at this point: First, thank you; Second; please post a comment that acknowledges you read this far (you will probably be the first to do so); Third, there is a point.
The point is this. Common sense is not a requisite for operating a Vee Hickle.
Although I have not completed the entire compendium, I went through the manual and counted 194 “Warnings” and “Cautions” called out in the book. There are so many warnings in the book, they stop printing them in color after about 50 pages. I am pretty sure, by the time I finish the manual (IF I finish the manual), I will probably also be qualified to operate a lunar landing module, a Trident class nuclear submarine, or possibly an SR-71 Blackbird.
Clearly my wife’s new car is one dangerous and bad mother but I am not going to bore you with 194 mind numbing warnings. I am going to pick 10 choice Revelations from the first half of the book, and then, if I finish the book, another 10 from the second half that may make you: A.) Wonder why you didn’t consider more seriously getting your law degree and B.) Ponder the wisdom of allowing anyone with 4 brain cells behind the wheel of anything that moves.
So on that note, I’m off to curate. Please stay tuned for Part II of “Sir, Please Step Into The Vehicle.”