It is many years since I crashed my four or five year old
face into the shiny dashboard of my father’s Jaguar Mk 2, I think it was. Cars,
particularly Jaguars were Dad’s passion at that time and I was still in my ‘Go
faster, Daddy!’ phase. No speed limit, no seat belts, and no fear, until he had
to slam the brakes on that day. A bumped head, with a growing lump, loud crying
from me and worries about ‘What will Mummy say?’ from him as he consoled me. He
wasn’t driving fast at that moment. Something happened and he had to brake. It
was before I started wearing glasses, luckily. We lived in Lancaster at the
time and Sunday afternoons when our pubs closed between 2pm and 7pm, were
family gathering times. Our family of licensees across Lancaster and Morecambe,
regularly went out for a countryside picnic in a convoy to Crook O’ Lune, Caton
or Hornby. Someone’s car would break down on the way home and all the men would
be under the bonnet with calls of ‘Try it now!’ and ‘What’s on the dash?’
I took no notice of the dials and switches on the dashboard.
All I knew was that some lit up and others didn’t, and there was a button to
press to start the engine. It didn’t always work. Sometimes it made a slow, groaning
sound and nothing happened until Dad, with much muttering, fixed it.
The dashboard started to make sense when I began driving and
learnt basic car care from my dad. My first car was my beloved Austin A40. It
was a gift from my dad and after the initial disappointment, which I kept to myself,
I loved it to bits. I’d hoped for something more appealing, like a Mini, or a
bright green Ford Capri. An Austin A40 didn’t offer much wow factor to a trendy
seventeen year old. It was clean and tidy, had low mileage and was very
reliable. The plastic dashboard had minimal things on it, very basic, but it
had everything I needed.
Dad liked to tinker about with his cars. He wouldn’t get
much joy these days with sealed units and computerised dashboards. Our car has
all manner of things monitored. It tells us if a tyre has incorrect pressure.
Dad would have relied on his eyes and checked them every week with the oil and
water.
Dashboards have their place on everything, not just motor vehicles. Computers, mobile phones and household appliances. We had the misfortune to have two items reach the end of their useful lives within a week or two, and around Christmas when they are most needed. Our tumble dryer, after serving us well every winter for twenty-eight years, squeaked for the last time, then the twenty year old dishwasher released a puff of electrical smoke. Both have been replaced recently but what a search to find something suitable. I don’t want anything complicated, just something to do the job, and I don’t need anything connected to a phone app, though the new dryer has that facility, should I change my mind. Both appliances, nice and efficient, I must say, require ‘programming’ to turn them on, by going through the dashboard and clicking this and that. I’m used to simple things that turn on and off. I could choose how many minutes I wanted my old dryer to tumble. Now I have to program the new one, depending on fabric care and hope for the best.
My Haiku,
Instructions and warning lights
On everything now.
So complicated
With far too many features.
I prefer simple.
I don’t need an app,
Just ‘off and on, stop and go’
Suits me perfectly.
Thanks for reading, Pam x
