Stop the Bleeping Beeping Already

Once upon a time, cars talked to us.

“Your door is ajar,” my car would intone solemnly.

To which I always replied, “No it isn’t, it’s a door.” The car never laughed at my lame joke.

I’m not sure when cars stopped talking and started beeping — loudly — about everything. Nor do I have a time stamp in my memory of when every single other electronic device started beeping — loudly — about everything.

All I know is, I can’t even make breakfast without being beeped at. Excessively.

The coffee maker beeps when it’s done coffeeing. The microwave beeps when the bacon is done baconing, and continues beeping until I yell, “I know, dammit!” and take the bacon out.

The refrigerator beeps at me if I leave it open a second longer than it deems necessary, while I peruse it for coffee creamer, almond milk, bacon and eggs, or cereal and fruit. Yes, I keep cereal in the fridge. I live in the High Desert which I am forced to share with ants. So many ants. Everything an ant would like goes in the fridge. Ants don’t respond to beeping.

Why does the refrigerator get to decide if I’ve kept the door open too long? Is it paying the electric bill? I don’t think so.

The air fryer beeps when I’m making anything air fried, baked, roasted, toasted or any of the myriad of things an “air fryer” does. My dishwasher beeps “Dishes are done. Unload me now, lazy wench,” and the washer and dryer sing their own beepy songs. And those are only the kitchen beepers. There are more. So many more.

My phone pings in several different tones to alert me of phone calls, texts, the weather, payments from Venmo, and Silver Alerts. I do not appreciate these notifications. Especially before coffee.

My space heaters, and minisplit air and heat units, beep when I turn them on, and again when I turn them off. Who do they think needs to be alerted they are turning on and off? It’s not like they’re surprising me. I’m the only one here, and I’m operating the remotes.

Even my new kitty squeaks at me. It’s her form of meowing. I forgive her squeaky beeps though, because she and they are so darned cute. Beep away, Ginger Princess. Her’s is the only beeping I tolerate.

Less honking, more tonking

As you can tell from my rant, and my memory of talking cars from the 1980s, I am of a certain age. An age which doesn’t appreciate getting constantly beeped and honked at.

Ironically, I have every safety feature available on my car set to beep at me. Yes, it’s annoying. Still, it has saved me, more times than I can count, from merging into oncoming traffic, or, in defiance of physics, changing lanes in an effort to occupy the same space at the same time as the car in my blind spot.

My car beeps as I back up if a large leaf blows in my reversing path. Much less people walking behind my car, or other cars moving behind me. Sometimes those cars are three lanes over and across a median. Annoying. However I have yet to back into any people, cars, or blowing leaves. As with the “your door is ajar” cars, I have often talked back to my car, informing it that those cars are three lanes and a median away, and to shut the fuck up. It doesn’t listen to me.

In revenge for my yelling at it, my car flashes a huge “BRAKE” sign at me along with an urgent beep if it thinks I won’t stop in time to keep from hitting the car, person, or large falling leaf in front of me. If you ask my son or sister, they side with the car on this one. Traitors.

In the same vein, people behind me often honk at me. So rude. Maybe I am applying lipstick as the light turns green. Why are you so impatient? It’s bad for your blood pressure. And the honking is bad for mine. .

Maybe I do wait until every single car goes by, and a vast chasm opens up, before I turn right on red. You’re welcome for my keeping us both safe.

Maybe I never turn on a flashing yellow light, because the one time I did an oncoming car in the middle lane hit me and totaled my car. I swear she sped up to hit me. The cars in lanes one and three missed me.

In short, STOP HONKING AT ME just because I’m lipsticky beautiful and hyper vigilant about oncoming cars.

If it isn’t my car beeping, or impatient motorists honking, it’s the backup beeping from the garbage and recycling trucks, which penetrate the doors and windows of my home like a knife through warm butter. Delivery trucks and utility trucks also screech their cacophony into the atmosphere around my home, which is also my office, making the beeping even more annoying.

I used to be a regular at honky-tonks. Those are bars, mostly dive bars, featuring either a live country band or a slammin’ jukebox filled with country tunes. Do jukeboxes still exist?

Honky-tonks are for two-stepping and three-stepping, classic partnered dances in country bars. I swear, most of my laugh wrinkles came from sipping Lone Star beer while boot-skooting around a country bar dance floor. Also, wrinkles from squinting into the cigarette smoke, back in the dark ages when people who are not me could smoke in bars.

There was no need for beeping or honking on the dance floor. Each partner kept a lookout, so as not to careen into another couple, or have them careen into you. The person leading would swing their partner out of the way. The one following would apply subtle pressure on their partner’s shoulder to let them know to avoid a possible collision. Everybody knew the rules. No backup cameras or beeping necessary.

There may have been a few bar fights, although none that I started, but one thing there wasn’t was any form of beeping. And when we all left the club, there was no honking, even when we forgot to go on a green light, or drove ten to twenty miles under the speed limit “just to be safe.”

I vote for less honking and beeping and more tonking. In fact, I’m going to find a honky-tonk now and grace it with my patronage. As long as nobody and nothing there beeps at me.

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This post was previously published on MEDIUM.COM.

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