“Google is building a car that drives itself”.
If I seem like a sardonic douche, it’s cause a.) I totally am, and b.) I’m ultra-bitter about this. I mean, way to go – waiting to build a driveless car until after I’ve quit drinking alcohol forever? I could have totally benefited from this during my years living under a chemical canopy and aimlessly drifting from dive to dive sans actually driving (or using less drunk people to drive for me.)
This automated golf-cart looking thing has only two seats, and apparently won’t be sold publicly (yet?). The other day, though, Google did mention that it hopes to have about 100 prototypes of them on public roads a year from now.
That’ll be great for Mr. Busy McIpad so he can ride around unfettered (it’s hard being bothered with gears and whistles and stopping to turn the crank lever while your lady fans herself with her glove) so he can email volley and stuff. And him having one will be good for me too.
Because I’m tired of trying to decipher whether swerving cars are manned by drunks, iphoners, or foreigners.
It’d also be great while on sleepy cross-country road trips, when the gravely bit on the shoulder keeps waking me up. Annoying. There’s nothing worse that blaring music and letting in bursts of irksome breeze when all you wanna do is faceplant on the horn, dream of sugar plums, and slowly roast away in a roadside car fire.
So this’d be nice for all that. But in real life, I’d actually hate this thing. No steering wheel? No thank you! I’d like to know I can commandeer my own death vessel if need be. Controlling other people or things isn’t my business, but I violently loathe lacking control of this meat marionette I was chosen to live in. So, I need a wheel – one capable of overriding Knight Rider should he get out of order. Which leads me to a few question conundrums for when it does arrive:
1. What if it malfunctions?
2. When I’m deliriously illiterate from caffeine withdrawal, is it going to keep condescendingly asking me: “Did you meeeeean…Starbucks?”
3. What if a crew of roommate neuroscientists and astrophysicists hijack it from their living room?
And, finally:
4. How will cops meet their quota if I can’t help via speed violations?
I demand a few answers, Google, before the purchase of your product I don’t plan to make.