Jill's Journal: The sound of silence

Technology perplexes me. It always has, and it probably always will.

It’s been five years since I first pulled out of the dealership with my brand-spanking-new Buick. It was the first time in my life that I’d ever owned (to be more specific, financed to own) a new vehicle.

And like all new technology that’s been introduced, let’s just say that five years later, I’m still discovering things about the car.

Take for instance, a couple of years ago when I pulled up in front of the Hotel Alex Johnson in Rapid City, the valet instructed me to turn on the flashers.

Hmmmm.

I studied the dashboard hard. I opened the counsel and the glove compartment, too. I saw nothing. So, I politely asked the young man waiting to take my car to be parked, “Would you know where it is?”

Without hesitation, he reached across me, pushed the triangle red button next to the technology screen.

Mystery solved. 

On another solo road trip that I took, I discovered that the visors actually extend out. I learned that by default, but now that I know, I’m always maneuvering them to keep the sun out of my eyes.

Earlier this month, I steered the Buick west on I-90 to Deadwood for the South Dakota NewsMedia Association’s annual banquet. Here’s the deal: I love a get-away to Deadwood, but the 5.5 hours of road time between here and there, not so much.

I talked to friends. I listened to a comedy channel. And I surfed radio stations along the way.

On the way home, well, that turned out to be a different story.

For the first time in the five-year history of ownership, the info center had been asking to be updated. I dismissed it again and again and again, as a 5.5-hour-long road trip in silence makes for a long 5.5-hour-long road trip.

My return trip, however, was a different story. When I left the Lodge that day, I had radio. Thirteen miles later, after coming down “the mountain,” I steered the Buick into a gas station, and when I started the vehicle a few minutes later, the radio was MIA.

I turned the car off and turned it back on to no avail.

I pushed buttons – most notably – the power button. Again, no response.

I drove the car around in circles. A couple of times. And no, the circles I made were more out of frustration than solving my dilemma.

“This is going to be a lllloooonnnngggg 5.5 hours on the road in complete silence,” I thought to myself. “Who can I call?”

My first call was to my friend, Trish, who now lives in Sacramento. We talked for a good 45 minutes or so. 

Next, I dialed up my friend Sharon, back in Brandon.

She was wise enough to ask if I’d like her to Google “how to” stop the “updating” process, and of course, I eagerly accepted her offer.

She rattled off four solutions, two of which involved pushing buttons on the steering wheel, disconnecting the battery or the fuse.

Of course, I opted for the two easiest solutions. I pushed the first button. Nothing.

Then, the second suggested button. Again, nothing.

A few hours down the road, my bladder was calling and the turnoff north to Pierre was in sight, so I pulled off I-90, fueled up the Buick and opened the hood. 

Now, I’m smart enough to disconnect the negative clamp on the battery. But what perplexed me was just exactly how to get to that negative clamp on the battery.

I closed the hood. Hobbled into the store for a bathroom break all the while thinking, who can I call next?

As it turned out, when I fired up the Buick for the remainder of the road trip, I was elated to learn that the radio was back in business, and this gal was once again singing a happy tune. And hopefully, it will be another five years before technology once again perplexes me. Because I know it will.