My Friend The Car
I never thought it would happen. When I was five years old I watched a show called “My Mother the Car.” It was a show about a talking car. An antique car that was possessed by the mother of the shows leading character, played by Dick Van Dyke’s brother Jerry. It was an automotive version of Mister Ed.
Then when I was in my early twenties I watched “Knight Rider.” The show that gave the world David Hasselhoff. It was also a show about a talking car that helped Hasselhoff fight crime.. A very advanced talking Pontiac Trans Am with an attitude.
Now I own one.
A talking car.
Mine isn’t a possessed antique nor an advanced crime fighting sports car with a dry sarcastic attitude. It is a Dodge Avenger. Nothing out of the ordinary. Not an expensive car compared to most. I would say it’s an average costing car.
But it does talk. It says things to me. It mostly asks questions. It apparently is a very curious car. It wants to know if it can download my phones contacts. It asks to take memos. It asks other things. A lot of the questions are about clarifying things I have said to it.
It responds to things I say. It and I have conversations. Maybe not as in depth as conversations I would have if it was possessed by my mother. Maybe not as serious as how to stop criminals from hassling The Hoff. But they are conversations.
When I was five or when I was a young adult, I never thought I would live long enough to own a talking car.
But I do.
Which is nice because I have also lived long enough that my kids don’t talk to me much. Oh, we have good relationships. It’s just that they are too busy. I catch them between activities and jobs or school. I get a word or two here and there when I ask questions. But now I have my car.
It asks me questions. It is interested in what I am doing. It offers to help me complete tasks.
It even switches the radio to whatever I want to listen to if I ask. Something the kids never have done.
Now if I could just get it to mow my lawn it would be the perfect car.