Ron took his old car to the garage for a squealing brake and received a courtesy car that spoke more often than his wife.
The mechanic, Sam, handed him the keys.
“It’s very modern.”
Ron looked at the dashboard, which had no visible buttons. “How do I start it?”
“Press the brake and push the blue switch.”
The car immediately said, “Please fasten your seat belt.”
Ron fastened it.
“Please check all passengers are secure.”
“I have no passengers.”
“Passenger door open.”
Sam leaned through the passenger door. “That’ll be me.”
The car seemed satisfied after Sam stepped away. Ron drove toward home. At the first corner it said, “Lane departure warning.”
“I’m turning.”
“Lane departure warning.”
“That is how corners work.”
At the next junction, the car announced a speed limit of thirty. Ron was doing twenty-eight. It repeated the limit in case he was planning ambition.
He arrived home irritated and found his wife, Sheila, waiting with a shopping list.
“You’re back quickly.”
“The car supervised me.”
She climbed in. The car told her to fasten her seat belt.
She did.
Ron stared. “You never do it that quickly when I ask.”
“The car has a calm voice.”
On the way to the supermarket, the navigation system suggested a faster route. Ron ignored it. The car recalculated. He ignored that. It recalculated again with the weary patience of a teacher.
Sheila said, “Maybe it knows traffic.”
“I know these roads.”
The car directed them left.
Ron went right.
Five minutes later they stopped behind roadworks.
Sheila said nothing. The car said, “Recalculating.”
“I preferred it when you said nothing,” Ron told both of them.
At the supermarket, the car warned that a rear door was open. They checked every door twice. The warning remained.
A teenager passing by pointed to the boot, which Ron had left raised.
“That is not a rear door,” Ron said.
The car did not apologize.
After shopping, Sheila put the bags in the boot. A carton of eggs rolled beneath a coat. The parking sensors beeped as Ron reversed, although there was nothing behind him except a hedge several feet away.
He stopped.
The beeping stopped.
He reversed.
The beeping became frantic.
Ron got out and inspected the bumper. A leaf was stuck to one sensor.
“The car is afraid of salad,” he said.
Back inside, another warning appeared: CHECK REAR SEAT.
“There is nobody there,” said Ron.
Sheila looked back. “It’s reminding us about the shopping.”
“We put it in the boot.”
She found one bag on the floor behind her seat. Ron admitted the car had noticed something useful.
At home, he carried in every bag except the eggs. The next morning, the dashboard again displayed CHECK REAR SEAT.
Ron searched the back seat, found nothing, and drove to the garage.
Sam asked how he liked the courtesy car.
“It complains about my steering, my route, my speed, my doors, and leaves.”
“So it works.”
“My own car only squeals when I brake.”
Sam nodded. “Your car is ready.”
Ron happily returned the courtesy key and climbed into his familiar vehicle. He started the engine. Silence. No advice, no warnings, no calm instructions.
He drove ten yards and heard the old brake squeal.
Ron smiled.
At least it waited for a real reason.
Then his phone rang through the hands-free system. Sheila’s voice filled the car.
“Ron, where are the eggs?”
He stopped and looked toward the courtesy car.
The dashboard was flashing CHECK REAR SEAT.
For once, it had been trying to save breakfast.