My car talks. It posts notifications on the dash and talks through the radio speaker. My car is synchronized with my iPhone by BlueTooth and I’m able to call and talk hands-free.
The other day when driving to Mother’s house I initiated a call to her to tell her I was on my way. After I disconnected, I started laughing. I was talking to a car. I have a talking car. This is like something out of a sci-fi movie.
My mom was born in horse-and-buggy days, in a house with no running water, no indoor toilet, no electricity. She got an eighth-grade education, equivalent to graduating high school now, at a country school where all the kids were in the same room. By the time Mom was in her young teens, she learned to drive in a Model T and got her license, but after she had us kids, she let her license expire and walked everywhere she went.
I learned to drive in a two-tone green 1953 Chevy. I had a 1950 bullet-nose Studebaker. I found out recently that it’s a highly collectible model that marked a dramatic change from the World War II-era vehicles. I’ve had a lot of cars, mainly Chevrolets and my favorite over the years has been the 1957 Chevy that I owned in the 70s.I love my the 2000 Chevy Tahoe too, but this 2011 Chevy Traverse is the first one I could carry on a conversation with. It looks like I’m talking to myself, but I’m talking to an unseen electronic piece of equipment. Technically I’m not talking to the car, I’m talking to the electronic voice-recognition software in my iphone through the car.
I usually talk to real people and I always talk to God. I frequently talk to Him as I drive down the road, asking for spiritual direction for my life. He’s the one I can always turn to. It might look like I’m talking to myself or my car, but I’m really talking to the King of kings.
Who do you talk to?