Conversations With My Truck

Modern technology now allows us to have conversations with our vehicles. I drive a 2012 Ford F150 Crew Cab pickup. It came equipped with what they call “Sync,” which is a product by Microsoft (and that should tell you a lot about the product). In places like the Ford F150 forums and the privacy of many Fords, Sync gets called many other names, and the names are neither polite or flattering nor repeatable on a nice family blog like this one.


What does Sync do? Besides infuriate you, that is. The idea, it seems, is Sync puts you “in sync” with your Ford.  Sync has a female voice, a rather irritating one. Microsoft must have recruited Nurse Ratched for the part.  She asks you questions, takes commands and executes them, so you don’t have to push buttons and get distracted by that. “Executes them” is a term that I say is open for discussion when applied to the Sync B****. Sometimes she does what you ask, and sometimes she argues with you and even pushes you around. And you want to know what “distracted” really looks like, just get into an argument with the Sync B****. (The linked video above is a bunch of Sync users at a therapy session.)

I’m not making this up!

Haven’t you ever seen someone driving down the highway yelling his head off and shaking his fist, and there was no one else in the truck or car? He wasn’t singing along to Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody on his iPhone Bluetoothed to the truck’s stereo. If he was in a Ford, he was probably having an argument with the Sync B****.

I have considered shooting her, but the engine would be in the line of fire—and I would only have to pay to get it repaired, not to mention explaining THAT to the police after some suspicious Ford dealer reported the bullet hole. I can see the police report now: “Claims he was mad at his truck, so he shot it.” That would not bode well when I renew my concealed carry permit.

You think I am joking? Let me give you a sample of a Sync B**** “conversation.”


Lane –  I want to listen to some tunes stored on my iPhone by connecting it to the truck’s stereo through Bluetooth, so I push the “media” button on the steering wheel

SB – Answers: “Line in. Say a command.”

Lane – “Bluetooth Audio” That should be all I need to say to establish a connection.

SB – “I did not understand you. You can say USB, next turn, line in, Bluetooth, leave massage…” And she rattles off a list of around thirty commands I can say that include everything from changing map directions to connecting my iPhone to the stereo via Bluetooth, which is what I want.

Lane – I punch the “media” button to shut her up, cutting her off at around “Update route…” (In retrospect, that may have made her mad.)

SB – “Line in. Say a command.”

Lane – The microphone is in the overhead console only about 15 inches from my mouth, but I say it  little louder, thinking that will help, “Bluetooth Audio.”

SB – “I did not understand you …”

Lane – I scream at her, “I didn’t stutter!” That didn’t help either.

SB – Unfazed by my outburst, she continues, “…You can say USB, next turn, line in…” and we go through the list again.

Lane – Back to the “media” button.

SB – Stops her list at “Say ‘Play’ if you …” Pause. “Line in. Say a command.” (Rinse and repeat.)

Lane – I considered spelling it, but went for emphasized enunciation instead, figuring anyone this stupid couldn’t possibly be able to spell. It came out something like this, “BLUE-TOOTH-AU-DIO.” You know, like when you are trying to explain something to someone who does not speak English and you don’t speak their language, so you say it in English very loud and slowly—as if that will help?

SB – “I did not understand you. You can say USB, next turn, line in…”

Lane – While I am shaking my fist at my truck’s dashboard, my mouth vomits out a string of profanities directed at HER.

Janis thinks I need professional help.

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