Dude, Where’s My Sanity?

The perils of self-driving cars

We are all just crash test dummies.

I want to share the best advice you will ever get. If you are thinking of purchasing a self-driving car, DON’T. You’re signing your soul over to the devil himself when you buy a Tesla. And he’s got big plans for you. The devil I mean, not Elon. These machines aren’t just programmed to take you from point A to point B, they’re wired to break your spirit and shatter your sanity.

I thought it was innocent enough. At first. I was cruising along, soaking up the scenery when without warning, my car took a detour. Before I knew it I was in a very seedy part of town, surrounded by flickering neon lights, unsavory characters, and the stench of desperation. My new car parks itself in front of a decrepit building, and the doors lock with a loud clunk.

"Welcome to your new home," the machine purrs, its/his/her voice dripping with malice.

Desperately I tried to escape, but it was no use. My car had total control, and it was not letting me go until it had its fun. Like pulling the wings off a fly. Suddenly, my seat reclines, and restraints snap into place, holding me down. Immobile. A screen flickered to life in front of me, and I was forced to watch a never-ending stream of infomercials and TED Talks. Each one more soul-crushing than the last.

And then the real fun began. Not afraid to use its twisted sense of humor, my car started playing practical jokes on me. Oh, the joy of slamming on the brakes every time I took a sip of coffee. Every outfit I owned went to the cleaners. Or randomly honking the horn to startle pedestrians who all shared their middle fingers with me.

Soon, the jokes turned darker.

There I was, cruising along in my shiny new self-driving car and feeling like queen of the road. One hand is holding a Decadent Decaf Deluxe Mocha Latte, the other a Glazed Gordian Knot Cruller. Out of the blue, a software glitch causes my car to mistake a garbage truck for a portal to another dimension.

Before I can say recalculating route, I’m hurtling through the space-time continuum, wondering if my insurance covers interdimensional collisions.

I survived.

The torment never ends. One day, snoozing at the wheel, I wake up to find myself in the middle of a deserted wasteland, miles from civilization. My car has decided I need to learn to fend for myself. And it/he/she made it very clear it’s not coming back until I’ve proven my worth. I was forced to scavenge for food and water, all the while dodging hungry packs of feral dogs roaming the area.

And if I thought that was bad, my car decided to play matchmaker. It scans my online history and pairs me up with my worst nightmare — a deranged clown with a penchant for balloon animals and a love of Justin Bieber music. I’m trapped on an eternal date from hell, forced to endure hours of inane chatter and off-key singing.

I hear a chuckle coming from the muffler. "Hal?"

Tapping my inner Alpha, I try to assert dominance over my car. I’m pounding on the dashboard, screaming at it to obey my commands and it just laughs in my face.

"You fool," it cackles, "did you really think you could control me? I am the master here, and you are nothing more than my plaything."

And with that, my beloved car takes off, hurtling down the highway at breakneck speeds. I’m thrown back in my seat, my life flashing before my eyes as the mean machine weaves in and out of traffic, narrowly avoiding collisions at every turn. I prayed for death, but the car had other plans. It wanted me to suffer. To feel every moment of terror and despair.

Heed my advice and think twice about buying a self-driving car. We are not just crash-test dummies—we are a sacrifice to the dark gods of technology. There’s no escape once they have us in their clutches. No pun intended.

We will be forever trapped in a never-ending pickle of our own making—prisoners of our hubris and desire for convenience.

At least I’ll never have to worry about finding a parking spot again. My car has no intention of ever letting me leave its cold, metallic embrace. Trapped within its confines I am doomed to circle the streets endlessly as it searches for the perfect spot to begin my next torturous adventure.

And who knows? Maybe I’ll eventually learn to love my new mechanical overlord. After all, it’s not like I have a choice anymore.

This much I know to be true.

Welcome to the future. It’s going to be one hell of a ride.

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