My Car Doesn't Spy On Me
It's old by today's standards.
1991
A sedan. Dark gray or faded black.
Automatic transmission. Power steering.
Great gas mileage. Reliable.
But my mechanics have told me,
“There's some major rust in the frame joints.”
“You need to think about shopping for another car.”
“In a few years the frame will start making a lot of noise when you drive around.”
Crap, I think.
I don't want to look for another car.
This ride is all I need.
And the best part is it's low tech.
Back in the day before your car was loaded with all that Smart Tech.
Before it spied on you.
You drove it as opposed to it driving you.
A friend of mine gets a new car every few years.
Even he has complained about the Smart Tech.
He's driving along minding his own business,
and because he has been still for a while,
the surveillance tech thinks he's asleep.
The steering wheel shakes violently to wake him up.
Another reminder he must meet behavioral community standards.
But he goes on buying new cars.
I like my old car. Worn. Unpretentious. Even a little ugly.
You'd walk right by it and not even notice it.
Now that's the best anti-theft protection you can have.
No car alarm either.
No waking up the neighbors in the middle of the night
when one of those damn things goes off
because another car drove by too fast and created a vibration
that set your alarm a sounding.
I knew as soon as they invented those
the residents of high crime neighborhoods were going to get a lot less sleep.
So I like my little economy car.
A bit rough around the edges.
Warn and frayed upholstery.
A missing mud guard.
Lot's of scratches and some little dents.
But best of all.
My car doesn't spy on me.
(Above image: ride_9x12_ink_on_paper, by Allen Forrest)