¯
The snowflake icon (¯) on my car's dashboard has finally gone away. I hate this thing. Every time the temperature outside dips into the 30s, the dashboard emits a startling ding and ¯ appears as a reminder that it's cold outside. Yeah, well, I know that – screw you. The official reason for the warning is this: if it drops a few more degrees ice may develop on the roads, and you, the driver, the one on the telephone; the one fumbling for a CD; the one reaching into the backseat for the pacifier the baby has spit onto the floor mat; you may not be aware of the potential for freezing, so we are warning you with this ding and ¯ thus absolving us, the car manufacturer, of any responsibility should you ignore our warning, slide off the road and wrap this car around a tree (screw you, too, bucko).
The cold weather warning is a definite source of friction between my car and me. The car is still relatively new. This was our first winter together. In late November when the ding sounded and ¯ appeared for the first time, I was attentive to the implications. Okay, winter is here. The roads might freeze – better slow down. Come to think of it, I should put some cold weather gear in the back compartment as a safety precaution. Probably ought to get some new wiper blades, too, before the sleet and freezing rain start. For a very brief period of time, I actually thought the cold weather warning was a useful feature. After the first dozen or so reminders, though, I began to feel as though my car was nagging me. To me the tone of the ding harkens back to the time when my mother would command me to pee before we left the house on a long car ride.
I don't want to hear ding any more. I don't want to see ¯ any more. I don’t have to pee.
But nearly every day this winter the cold weather warning was back. It was brutally cold for this part of the world. I would guess that ninety days between November and March were cold enough to trigger the alarm. The days when the temperature fluctuated between 39 and 40 degrees were the most irritating. Ding ¯ It's 39 degrees outside! Watch for ice! Drive carefully! You could die! It's happened before! Okay, now it's 40. Relax. All is well. Don't even think about icing. Enjoy life. Go easy on yourself. You worry too much. Ding ¯ It's 39 degrees outside! Warning! Warning! Warning!
By the middle of March when it was still bloody cold outside and I was still facing that damned ¯, I started having desperate thoughts. I looked long and hard at ¯; it seemed to be smirking at me. I even had a talk with it: “Go away. Just go away. I’ll trade you in for a car with no ¯, you little crystalline prick. Don’t think I won’t do it.” But ¯ called my bluff. I even wondered if there was a fuse I could pull that would get rid of the thing. It would probably shut off all the lights on the dashboard, perhaps the brake lights as well, and the turn signals. That would be a bit problematic. But ¯ would be gone forever. It might work. I considered it.
Thankfully, spring has arrived. I haven't seen ¯ for a few days now. Perhaps it is presumptuous of me, but I think ¯ and ding are gone for the season. The weather has definitely turned warmer. I had the sunroof open today. This morning it was 56 degrees when I left the house. Signs of spring are everywhere. The flowers are poking up through the soil. The sun is rising before me in the morning; the days are brighter and longer. Birds are starting to migrate back north. One shit all over my windshield just yesterday. How come there isn't a warning chime for that? Or an icon on the dashboard of a bird dropping a load? Caution! Beware of bird shit!
Never mind. That is not a suggestion. You didn't hear it from me.
10:23:18 PM 
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