We picked up our new Toyota RAV hybrid yesterday – a moment of joy coupled with complete bewilderment.

It seems that new cars are more “complicated” than they used to be. That’s what my daughter texted me this morning when I told her the car was smarter than me and my man put together.

I thought that was a bit of an understatement. My neighbor, who also got a new car yesterday—an Audi—agreed. She said driving her car is like talking to Siri. “Hey, Audi, turn on the A/C. Hey Audi, turn on the radio.”

“When we left the dealership, the nice young salesman said: ‘Don’t take this the wrong way. I know you’re a little older, so here’s my phone number if you have any questions. Call me anytime.’”

Gone are the days when you scooted into the front seat, turned on the key, and drove the car off the lot without having to consult the guy you bought it from—or your phone.

Our salesman was also nice. Maybe not so young but still techie and obviously used to dealing with “older” folks.

He told us at least four times that he had very specific instructions for us, and those instructions would answer any questions we might have. Was he kidding? We didn’t have a clue what to ask.

“Don’t interrupt,” he said when my man finally came up with a simple query. “I will get to that. Just please let me go through everything.” Shut up and listen was what I heard.

I did mention to him halfway through his spiel that the average person can only retain three things they are told at any given time. And messages have to be heard at least seven times before they sink in. I learned that from my years in communications.

He acknowledged that we would probably forget most of his instructions and also suggested we could call or visit him anytime we needed help.

He left us to adjust the seats and fiddle with a few things. Finally, my man started the car as instructed. Nothing.

This is not going to work, I told myself. Give us back our trusty Highlander. I think my man was thinking the same thing but instead instructed me to locate our salesman. When I couldn’t find him, I grabbed someone in the standard dealership red shirt, plus cowboy hat. A big man who had to readjust the seat.

He put his foot on the brake and pushed the button. “It works fine,” he said as he backed it up slightly. But where was the noise from the engine? Or any indication that the car was ready to go? My man and I thanked him, then looked at each other and shook our heads.

Maybe we are too old for these new-fangled machines. Believe me, I never thought I would have such thoughts. But there they were, front and center.

We drove off. The ride was smooth, seats were comfy, the three-month free Sirius radio was working fine, as was the air-conditioning. All I need in a car. So far so good. We stopped at the grocery to pick up a few things. When I came out, my man put his foot on the brake and pushed the button. Nothing.

“This is not going to work,” he lamented.

“Let me try,” I said as I exited the passenger side and traded seats with him. I put my foot on the brake, pushed the button, threw the car into reverse, and backed out.

“Well, now I feel like an idiot,” my man grumbled.

“Don’t feel bad. You can’t hear the darn thing. There is no indication the engine is on. You just gotta trust,” I said.

He rolled his eyes.

Later that night, the car texted me that its four doors were unlocked.

“I don’t care. You’re in the garage, and this is not New York City,” I said aloud.

My man looked at me quizzically.  

“It was the car, letting me know that the doors weren’t locked.”

Another headshaking moment.

If I were an automobile manufacturer, I would create a model for the older generation. No techie gimmicks. No lengthy instructions from the car salesman. Easy start and easy off, accompanied by the sound of engine noise. No annoying text alerts at 9 p.m. That would be one smart car.

I predict it would be a best-seller.