So you’ve just got the keys (that allows for keyless entry, naturally) to that new luxury flagship that you’ve waited several months for. And because you want to really stick it to your cheapskate buddies at the golf club, you’ve specced everything on the options list but the heat-seeking missiles. So, let’s see… You’ve got the thermal imaging camera, the adaptive LED headlights that can peek around corners, the radar-guided adaptive cruise control and the feature that lets the car (pretty much) park itself.
It goes without saying that your spanking new ride will also come with a fully tricked-out infotainment system that includes satellite navigation.
All that’s left to do is to figure out how to use all that, via a user’s manual as thick as a phone book (remember those things?) that spends the first twenty or so pages soothing your buyer’s remorse. That’s especially useful if you’ve just blown half a million dollars (or more) of your kid’s university education fund on said flagship.
Unfortunately, as with the VCR (remember those things, too?) you used to own, the user’s manual is the first thing to go missing. In a splendid example of how the more things change, the more they stay the same, this will mean spending the better part of an afternoon fumbling with the device.
But unlike the VCR, not figuring out how to work that new car will have consequences more dire than missing your favourite TV show – it could mean not being able to show off your fancy in-car toys.
Which would in turn mean that the swanky $500k limousine you’ve just splashed out on is, in effect, no better equipped than the Toyota Vios your domestic helper uses to get the groceries and run errands.
Assuming you’ve managed to negotiate the near-vertical learning curve most gadget-laden cars come with and have successfully had your golfing buddies “ooh” and “aah” over it – what next, then?
It’s like having a swimming pool of your very own. It’s great for the first couple of months when the novelty (or chlorine) is fresh, but as the old saying goes, familiarity breeds contempt. Ask anyone with a swimming pool (who’s not an aspiring Olympian) and chances are, they’ll say they don’t use it all that often. And seriously, how many drivers do you know actually use something as commonplace as cruise control in their cars? Or how long after buying a luxe-mobile will the thrill of having a mid-trip massage wear thin?
So here’s a tip, folks. Send your kids to university and don’t tick the box marked “massage armchairs” or “hidden small arms”.
Either that, or you could always buy that prestigious condominium with the infinity pool you’ve had your eye on for a while…
