David's Mother the Car

Image by djedj from Pixabay

As any Boomer who watched too much television would remember, the 1960’s included way too many sitcoms goofy enough to explain how our generation should never have been given the keys to run things as we crossed over from the 20th to the 21st Century.

For example, My Mother the Car, the network television sitcom starring “the other” Van Dyke (Jerry). The brilliant and very plausible premise was that Jerry’s mother has been reincarnated as a car and she talks to him through the radio.

Apparently, mom convinced him with wining lines such as “If the New York Mets are possible, I'm possible.”

She has a point.

Poor Jerry. Brother Dick gets to date Mary Poppins and marry Mary Tyler Moore and Jerry is left hanging out with a 1928 Porter automobile parent.

My mother passed away a few years ago but if she returned as a car she would no doubt be a Tesla Cybertruck and she would be known as “David’s Mother the Car.”

Under the well-established scientific phenomenon known as “I’m rubber, you’re glue,” whenever my brother David referred to our mother in speaking to my brother Mike and me, he always started by saying “Your mother … ,” followed by her latest transgression (which to be fair, she did have a few).

David used that phrase so much that now and forever our entire family refers to her as “David’s mother.”

This is quite similar to the fate of my friend Dan who was a young attorney with me many years ago at a NYC law firm. Dan referred to people so often as “Buckethead” that now, some 40 years later, Bucky, er, Dan, is himself still known among many of his former colleagues as “Buckethead.”

You would think I would have learned my lesson but nooooo.

My 93-year old mother-in-law (a.k.a., “Nama”) and I often joke Borscht Belt style, including ending telephone calls a la the George Burns and Gracie Allen comedy team which means (for those of you too young to be sure what I meant by Borscht Belt) my goodbye starts with my being George and saying “say good night Gracie,” at which point Nama plays the role of Gracie and responds “good night Gracie”.

Somehow, over the past few years, Nama has taken to calling ME Gracie, proving that she retains more marbles than the one she calls her “favorite son-in-law” (yes, I am her only son-in-law).

[Actually, the whole good night Gracie bit is television legend. Gracie played the ditsy mid-century wife to straight man George in a way that would absolutely be cancelled today, but Gracie actually only answered “Good Night” and was considered by George the star of their comic duo.]

I do not own a Tesla Cybertruck so that saves me time by not having to write “#$%# Elon” all over my own car.

Instead, we recently purchased a Toyota plug-in hybrid Prius and I am in all seriousness concerned that it might be the reincarnation of David’s mother (or possibly my second grade teacher, Mrs. Josephs, a dead ringer for Ms. Trunchbull from the Matilda books and movie).

The Prius is not really a car; more a computer on wheels.

The car also does not like the way I am driving and, much like David’s mother, is not shy about saying so.

“Driver Inattention Detected. Look forward” - - followed by a series of annoying beeps and bleeps.

She is not happy with my driving.

“Sit Up. Eyes Not Detected” - - followed by a series of annoying beeps and bleeps.

I know, I know, don’t slouch. She doesn’t like my posture but I’m wearing sunglasses, so of course she cannot see my eyes.

“Time for a break” (insert of steaming coffee cup picture) - - followed by a series of annoying beeps and bleeps.

You look tired - - too busy at work to make time to call your mother?

“Loser, I Knew You Would Never Amount To Anything!” - - followed by a series of annoying beeps and bleeps.

Well, ‘nuf said.

Actually, the Toyota Driver Attention Monitor uses an infrared light source and camera to determine “where the driver is looking, for how long he or she looks there and signs of lane departure or wandering in the vehicle’s travel path.”

Creepy, no?

If a potential problem is detected with “driver gaze behavior” there are warning sounds and messages and David’s mother pops right out of the dashboard and gives you a good smack with the back of her hand.

While not ideal for driving, this system offers so many other possibilities for which it is better suited.

Meta has announced that it will be issuing a Spousal Attention Monitor using a similar technology to that found in the Toyota Prius.

If spousal inattention is detected, a warning siren will sound, the offending spouse will be hit on the head by David’s mother with a spoon ladle, and he or she can then expect to spend the next few nights sleeping on the couch.

The Spousal Attention Monitor can be programmed so that the alarm will be set off with the mere detection of an eye roll by the offending spouse.

Unfortunately, attention monitors really could become part of workplaces and schools making us all feel like we are living in Oceania from George Orwell’s 1984 and under constant surveillance by telescreen.

Or maybe working at Amazon.

I prefer that my technology leave me alone (and that means you Siri!), but would rather have my car tell me what to do than to do whatever it wants to do.

I do not mind a car that gets a little creative and shows some personality.

Back in the 1990s, when men were men and families were tough enough to buy a minivan (unlike today’s snowflakes that require the macho branding of an SUV to chauffeur around their kids - - are taxis now the only minivans?), we had a Honda Odyssey whose windshield wipers went on whenever the car felt like it and which made odd noises perhaps at attractive passing cars.

Our kids dubbed it “Shitty Shitty Bang Bang” (again with the Van Dykes - oy!).

But, as you can imagine, no self-driving cars for me.

Although a David’s mother self-driving version has some possibilities.

She actually was not a bad driver for a girl from the Bronx who did not own a car until she was in her 30s, but her skills clearly deteriorated as she got older and I am not getting in her “Way-No.”

In all likelihood, it would be programmed to drive too slow in the fast lane, swerve quickly over two lanes without signaling to avoid missing its exit and inadvertently honk at random times.

I guess I will stick with my Toyota Prius for now. Notwithstanding the snide remarks as I drive, it is nice having David’s mother around again. Even if just on road trips.

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