Spent most of the day yesterday with R., as he negotiated the semi-treacherous waters of new-car purchasing. The genius part of his purchase was that the car isn’t new, per se; it’s a 2003, but it’s only got 4000 miles on it, having spent the first year of its life in what amounts to a traveling car beauty pageant. It’s gorgeous, it’s fast, it’s fully loaded, and it’s already taken that drive-it-off-the-lot-and-lose-$5000-in-value hit.
The car — I’m already beginning to think of her as the Valkyrie — is seriously a feat of engineering. These guys have thought of everything. Except one thing: how to set the clock.
She comes with a slew of manuals: the full-on owner’s manual; the quick guide; the service and warranty manual; the stereo manual; the car care manual (i.e., how to wash it). The clock resides on the stereo display, so the first assumption is that the stereo manual will have said information. Look in the index for “clock”; nothing. Look in the index for “time”; nothing. Look in the index for “setting,” as in “setting the clock,” and bingo:
See car owner’s manual.
Hmm. Check the owner’s manual. Look in the index for “setting”; nothing. Look in the index for “clock, setting the,” and bingo:
See radio or onboard computer guide.
We’re at a loss. The clock may well be wrong until Daylight Savings Time ends.
In fact, I may now know why the clock wasn’t reset when Daylight Savings Time started.