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If your TV rats you out, what about your car?

Vizio, the TV manufacturer, recently had to pay a $2.2-million fine to the FTC recently because it was discovered that its sets were collecting data about viewers' watching habits and then using the information for its own benefit. Last year, it was revealed the Samsung smart TVs were busy listening to what was being said, even if the conversations in question had absolutely nothing with switching the channel away from the Matt LeBlanc Top Gear. Nowadays, auto manufacturers seem to be tripping over each other pointing out that they offer Apple CarPlay and Google Android Auto. And more recent phenomenon are announcements—from companies including Ford and Hyundai—that they are offering Amazon Alexa capabilities. You talk. It listens. In late January, General Motors said it is releasing a next-generation infotainment software development kit (NGI SDK) to software developers to write apps for GM cars. The NGI SDK includes native Application Program Interfaces (APIs) that allow access to expected things - like oil life and tire pressure and whether lightbulbs are burned out - but unexpected things, as well. Like the presence of passengers in the vehicle. When your TV set is ratting you out, isn't it likely that your car will? In making the announcement of the NGI SDK, GM pointed out that it has the largest connected fleet on the road, some 12-million vehicles. The company also noted: "From 2015 to 2016, GM has seen data usage by customers increase nearly 200 percent. Mobile app use for GM vehicles also hit an all-time high in 2016, with more than 225 million interactions." Is it not plausible that they know more those interactions than simply the number of them? GM's privacy agreement is like most privacy policies, which boils down to: You use it (the device, software, etc.), you potentially give up a portion of your privacy. While on the subject of apps, coincident with this year's CES, Subaru announced that it has added eight cloud-based apps to the STARLINK multimedia system in the 2017 Impreza. Some are familiar, like Yelp. Some are a bit narrow in focus, like eBird, which was developed by the Cornell Lab of Ornithology for birdwatchers. And one ought to give a bit of pause: RightTrack. According to Subaru, "RightTrack Test Drive from Liberty Mutual Insurance monitors driving habits and provides customers with tips on driving safer to help lower their insurance rates and improve their safe driving skills." Or said more simply: You drive. It watches.

2019 Subaru Forester Touring Long-Term Update | Wet carpet

I hadn’t been doing much driving, so the Forester had spent a good chunk of the rainy/snowy spring week relaxing in my driveway. Finally, it came time to pick up a birthday dinner — Indian food, curbside to-go. As soon as I sat down, I noticed something new: a small crack in the windshield. That fix will have to wait until more businesses reopen. As I eased out of my driveway, another issue emerged. I heard what sounded like water sloshing. Braking for the stop sign at the end of my street Â… yep, definitely liquid. It sounded like it was below or in front of me. Later, I was parked in the alley behind the restaurant waiting for my order, and I accidentally dropped my phone down into the black hole on the righthand side of my seat. I reached down and groped for it, but instead of a rectangular personal computer, my fingers found nothing but carpet, seemingly soaked to capacity. My first instinct was to use a disinfectant wipe on my wet digits, but then I got out to inspect the underside of my seat from the second row. There was my phone, sitting in a fabric swamp under the seat. I retrieved it, and, of course, stuck my hand back in the spongy mess for an inspection. The water was cool to the touch. I sniffed my hand and found no noticeable smell. I wiped my hands dry, got my food situated on the passenger seat (seat warmer set on high, of course) and headed home. That night, I told Road Test Editor and fleet manager Zac Palmer about what I found. The next day, there was still no smell, but the water was still pooled, and the Forester got an appointment at the dealership (Dunning Subaru, where I used to take my '04 WRX — good people). I dropped it off Monday morning, and it spent a full week at the dealership. First, a part had to be ordered (something about a missing grommet; we'd learn more later). Second, the car wasnÂ’t ready until just before closing time on Thursday, and I didnÂ’t have time to pick it up before they closed for the weekend (temporary coronavirus hours) at 3:45 p.m.  “Subaru service told us that it tried to soak up and remove as much of the water as possible,” Zac relayed from Dunning, “but cleaning up the mess isnÂ’t something the service department usually does. Instead, it normally gets sent to a detailing shop that is now closed due to the coronavirus. The dealer apologized over the phone for the incomplete job, and warned us that the carpeting could still feel damp and possibly smell when we pick it up.

The super-sized Atlas isn't the three-row VW should build

In the late '50s and early '60s the Volkswagen Beetle wasn't ubiquitous in my hometown of Lincoln, Nebraska, but it came pretty damn close. Fords and Chevys dominated, but beyond the occasional MG, Triumph, or Renault the import scene was essentially a VW scene. When my folks finally pulled the trigger on a second car they bought a Beetle, and that shopping process was my first exposure to a Volkswagen showroom. For our family VW love wasn't a cult, but our '66 model spoke – as did all Volkswagens and most imports at the time – of a return to common sense in your transportation choice. As VW's own marketing so wonderfully communicated, you didn't need big fins or annual model changes to go grab that carton of milk. Or, for that matter, to grab a week's worth of family holiday. In the wretched excess that was most of Motown at the time, the Beetle, Combi, Squareback, and even Karmann Ghia spoke to a minimal – but never plain – take on transportation as personal expression. Fifty years after that initial Beetle exposure, and as a fan of imports for what I believe to be all of the right reasons, the introduction of Volkswagen's Atlas to the world market is akin to a sociological gut punch. How is it that a brand whose modus operandi was to be the anti-Detroit could find itself warmly embracing Detroit and the excess it has historically embodied? Don't tell me it's because VW's Americanization of the Passat is going so well. To be fair, the domestic do-over of import brands didn't begin with the new Atlas crossover. Imports have been growing fat almost as long as Americans have, and it's a global trend. An early 911 is a veritable wisp when compared to its current counterpart, which constitutes – coincidentally – a 50-year gestation. In comparing today's BMW 3 Series to its' '77 predecessor, I see a 5 Series footprint. And how did four adults go to lunch in the early 3 Series? It is so much smaller than what we've become accustomed to today; the current 2 Series is more substantial. My empty-nester-view of three-row crossovers is true for most shoppers: If you need three rows of passenger capacity no more than two or three times a year – and most don't – rent it forgawdsake. If you do need the space more often, consider a minivan, which goes about its three-row mission with far more utility (and humility) than any SUV.