I’ve been driving a Nissan Versa for the past 5 days – I rented it from Hertz at Boston’s Logan Airport when I arrived in New England on Wednesday. It’s a nice little car – dead basic minimal in terms of features, but nice nonetheless – with one tragic flaw: every time I get out of the car it gives me a whopping electric shock.
I’m particularly averse to electric shocks of any sort since my nerve conduction study back in October, and it had reached the point last night, after a day with many stops, where I was ready to admit that the car was doing this to me on purpose, perhaps as payback for some long-forgotten slight against the several Datsuns and Nissans I’ve owned over the year (there was that blue 1978 Datsun 510 that I abandoned on the side of the road after a nicer green 1978 Datsun 510 fell into my lap).
In frustration I turned to Twitter for help and my friend Morgan in Sweden came through with something that, while not a solution to the larger issue, certainly mitigates the torture:
So my getting-out-of-the-car ritual now goes like this: turn off the car, open the door gingerly, get out of the car, touch the door with my knuckles and receive painless shock, proceed.
The car still bears a grudge, obviously, but at least I’ve taken the edge off its reign of terror.