AND f inally

THERE ARE THOSE who, after buying a new machine, open the box, find the instruction manual and settle down in a comfortable chair to learn how to get the most out of their latest purchase. And then there are others who can’t be bothered or don’t have the patience and will chuck the manual out with the wrapping.

I, being a mature and methodical person, am of the first group, as I like to understand how to operate my shiny new gizmos. I may even reread a paragraph once or possibly twice, to make sure I don’t press button A before sliding lever B.

I think I am being thorough, but there are others who tell me I’m OCD with a touch of anal retentiveness. But right or wrong, anal or otherwise, all this is about to come to an end.

Instruction manuals are now passé and only used by those over a certain age who have just bought a piece of furniture from Ikea and are the proud possessors of a set of Allen keys.

Nowadays, if you want to plug in a new tumble dryer or decalcify your coffee machine, you are forced to leave the room, turn on a computer and watch a ten-minute YouTube video, made by someone with an accent you can’t understand, who is constantly being interrupted by advertisements for things you don’t want and will never have a use for.

It seems de rigueur that all instructions, no matter how mundane, now have to be watched on a screen.

To give you an idea of the stupidity of this, there are YouTube videos – and these are not just for children – instructing you how to get dressed, how to brush your teeth and even one on how to use a toilet. Isn’t it amazing, there are people who can use computers but don’t know how, or where, to relieve themselves.

This subject came to mind because I need to replace my car because, after 13 years, it is now costing serious money to keep on the road. The car I chose is a hybrid, running both on a conventional engine and batteries, which for me is the ideal setup.

But the downside of electric cars is that the dashboard often resembles the instrument panel of the starship Enterprise and, as Mr Spock, he of that very starship might have said: “It’s a dashboard Jim, but not as you would know it”.

In an electric car, what we would call the dashboard is now a sheet of clear plastic that, until you turn the ignition on, is opaque. But press the magic button and it springs to life, giving you an impressive display of gauges, numbers and unintelligible symbols.

At this stage you would normally reach for the manual to find out what is what, but there is no manual. The manual is on a computer chip which can only be read by scrolling through the options offered on your ‘dashboard’.

So now, when my new car arrives, instead of sitting in my comfortable chair with my feet up reading the manual to make sure I know when I switch the wipers on that the seat doesn’t recline, and how to open the boot instead of the filler cap, I will have to sit in the car until I know how to drive it.

I needed to rent a car last week as mine was, yet again, ‘in dock’. The rental company gave me a hybrid. After starting it up, which took me ten minutes, plus a walk back to the office, they explained to me that the ‘handbrake’ was in fact a button with an unrecognisable symbol, which worked automatically. They suggested that I simply ignore it. And that is a problem in itself.

A few years ago, after renting a car with an automatic handbrake and having two weeks to get used to it, I parked another rental car – this one without the auto brake – and it promptly rolled down a hill and finished up in a non-too-happy stranger’s garden.

So, manufacturers, whilst I am in full agreement with change and modernisation, could you please bring this about gradually and give us a little booklet that explains exactly what you have done.