Pack up your swimsuits. Roll up the beach towels. Lose the sunscreen behind the seat of the car. It’s about to be winter. Or, at the very least, we are well-seated in a chilled, blustery fall.*
The one feature of the new car that I can find is the heated seat dial. Heated seats?! Heated seats, friends. The dial seems pretty self-explanatory. It has numbers from 0 to 5, 0 presumably (and correctly) being no heat. And then each number is a little warmer than the one before, until you get to 5, which in my world seems that it would be bliss. The warmer, the better.
It is not so.
The dial is quite misleading. Today I tested it out, and I have assessed what each number really stands for:
0: No heat. Great for the summer.**
1: Still not really any heat. Wouldn’t thaw a rump roast.
2: Things are getting good. Lightly toasted buns. Perfect.
3: Oooh, that’s hot. Hot hot, actually. Uh, I don’t really like this. Too hot.
4: Oh dear god, BURNING! Too hot! Turn it off! Turn it off!!
5: [Right, you think after my experience at level 4 I turned it up to level 5?! Who do you think I am?]
If you love your butt, you will oscillate between a 2 and 3. Never higher.
* I have loved the word blustery forever. From the Winnie the Pooh film Winnie the Pooh and the Blustery Day. One of the best children’s movies ever.
** Ask me about the time I accidentally turned on heated seats in the summer and thought I was dying of meningitis.