When the world goes haywire, check those buttons

It happened again. It is happening more frequently, it seems.

“It” is losing touch with the technological world from time to time, and enduring a period of confusion before the world starts to right itself.

Let me give you an example:

My wife and I went out to lunch Monday, and afterward we decided to do something we often do after eating out. We went on a magical mystery tour. That is to say, we went for a drive along county roads with no destination in mind. Our only desire on these trips is that we enjoy the marvelous scenery that abounds along roads less traveled in this part of the country.

We were not disappointed. Not in the least.

When we got home, I checked to see whether there were any messages on the telephone answering machine. Yes, we still have one of those.

No messages.

Next, I checked to see whether anyone called but didn’t leave a message. We can do that, because the World of Tomorrow Was Yesterday. I pushed the button on our landline phone for “Caller ID Log.” Sure enough, two calls had been missed.

One of the calls was from someone I needed to talk to about something of little consequence, but something I wanted to get off my to-do list.

Because we recently had lunch and because we had driven around Cape Girardeau County for nearly an hour, I needed to go to the bathroom. I decided the smart thing to do would be to take the phone with me. That way, if I got another call from the person I was waiting to talk to, I wouldn’t miss the call again.

Sure enough, I was indisposed when the phone rang, but, thanks to excellent advance planning, I was able to pick up the phone to take the call. It isn’t a videophone, after all.

I answered the phone, but there didn’t seem to be any caller on the line. As a matter of fact, the phone kept ringing. I pushed some buttons. Heck, why push just one button when you have so many at your disposal?

Still no caller on the line.

However, I could hear Channel 12 on the TV as clear as a bell.

The confusion cloud finally evaporated, and I realized what I thought was the phone was instead the TV remote control.

I hesitate to tell you this next secret about my life: This wasn’t the first time this has happened.

I’m just being honest.

Here’s another example from real life:

I drive a five-year-old automobile. I like my car. It has a lot of doodads that I never use, like the cup holders that have heating or cooling functions, depending on which beverage I’m drinking.

But that’s just the point. I don’t drink and drive. Literally, I don’t drink anything when I’m behind the wheel. No water. No carbonated beverage. Nothing. But I have hot-and-cold cup holders.

Go figure.

I also have a lot of push buttons on the dash. I have figured out what some of them do. The rest — I’m not so sure.

The other day I pulled into the garage and pushed the “off” button, which is the same button I push when I start the car.

The car did not turn off.

I pushed the button again. No dice.

After four or five attempts to turn the car off, I finally realized that every time I pushed the “off” button the radio came on. And if I pushed the “off” button again, the radio would go off.

I will leave it to the geniuses who design automobile dashboards to justify why the “start-stop” button and the radio “on-off” button are next to each other.

And, yes, this was not the first time this has happened.

From time to time, I am unable to figure out how to make my car work properly. That’s when I take it to a qualified, trained mechanic and dump the problem into his hands.

Here’s what I’ve noticed: Nine times out of 10, the mechanic quickly identifies the root of the problem.

“It’s the solenoid.”

I have no idea what a solenoid is or does. All I know is every car in the world apparently has one, and its primary function appears to be that of a scapegoat so that mechanics can raise the hood of my car (something I cannot do myself, by the way), look carefully at the operating guts and announce:

“It’s the solenoid.”

Someday I intend to take a course, something like Car Mechanics for Idiots, and learn a thing or two about dashboard push buttons. I would hope one entire class session would be devoted to solenoids.

And another session should be on those flappy ears on the steering wheel that appear to interfere with what gear your automatic transmission shifts into.

Look, if it’s so automatic, why do I need ears on the steering wheel?

Let me know when this class starts. I’m ready. And I have a lot of other stuff I can show you, too.

Joe Sullivan is the retired editor of the Southeast Missourian.