Lather.  Rinse.  Repeat.

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.


  1. It was a pageant car?!? Wow, what is it? I’m imagining y’all in some kind of cherry-red Galaxy 500, although I suppose they don’t make those anymore. In any case, I have two words for you: BIG PIMPIN’!

  2. Actually, it was a golf car — but not the kind you put a bag of clubs in. The manufacturer apparently sponsors a bunch of golf events around SoCal, and this car was taken from tournament to tournament. For what purpose, I’m not exactly sure; it was either there just for spectacle (See what we can make? ooh! ahh!) or for big name golfers to cruise around in. Given the extraordinarily low mileage, I’m betting on the former. I’ll name the model if it’s okay with R., but for now, think small, and fast, and convertible, and German. Oh so German.

  3. Did you look around the clock display for one of those teensie weensie little hole/buttons that you have to push with a straightened-out paperclip?

    I realize that you’ve probably already thought of this, but it never hurts to point out the obvious. And the little clock hole/button in my car is awfully teensie weensie. . .


  4. Actually, I figured it out last night, by actually R-ing TFM: What appears on the stereo is merely a clock display, and not a clock proper. The clock proper is part of the in-dash computer, and is to be set there; once set, the correct time appears both in-dash and on-radio. I can’t imagine why I didn’t figure that out right away.

    Did I mention that the remote control keys for this car are powered by rechargeable batteries, and that said batteries get recharged by driving the car using the key?

    Or that said keys can be programmed individually, such that driver A’s key, upon unlocking the car, moves the driver’s seat into driver A’s position, while driver B’s key does the same for driver B?

    There’s enough gadgetry in this car to keep me happy for months.

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