Stem to Stern: The New Stuff
“I kicked the habit. Shed my skin. This is the new stuff. We go dancing in.” That rhythmic line from Peter Gabriel’s all-time most-played video, Sledgehammer, says it all. We gotta have the latest and the greatest—the new stuff. It doesn’t matter if the new stuff is no better than the old stuff. It’s new and that’s the point. Next generation, iPhone 20, Smart Watch, 5G, Smart TV, Smart Oven, robotic weapons dog, flush my toilet from my phone, Alexa—wipe my butt. We gotta have it. Consequently, we can’t think anymore. We rely on technology to do even the simplest of tasks. Have you watched the kids at the fast-food counter try to make change if the “system” is down? Have you ridden with someone who can’t follow simple geographical directions if their NAV screen is down? Have you been out to dinner with someone who can’t calculate a tip? I’ll bet all of you know someone that can’t tie a knot, fry an egg, or change a tire. The problem is, we can’t go back. Simpler times when humans could think and solve problems using their brains are long gone. Logic and reason are an App available by a cyber transfer from your digital currency account, managed in a Bahamian brothel. I assume that there is no penalty for early withdrawal.
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The new stuff. It’s true with cars, appliances, breakfast cereals, sports teams, power tools and public education. Old names and systems that worked and developed a loyal following over many years of providing a good result are suddenly obsolete. My wife recently went shopping for a new refrigerator and oven. The process was a study in the “new stuff.” Long gone are the old reliable names, Frigidaire, Kenmore and Amana. It’s all about the new stuff with LG, Samsung, Miele, Fisher Paykel, Liebherr and the like. French Door, door-in-door, beverage center, Family Hub (you won’t believe this superfluity), auto-fill water pitcher, LED backlighting, inside oven camera, cook from your phone and more. Some will even let you know when you’re running low on Blue Front BBQ sauce although that would never happen at our house. Hell, I just want to keep my orange juice cold and my Klondike Bars from melting. I don’t want to stream Adele on my refrigerator or monitor the FedEx guy with a Ring camera on the freezer door. What the …? But this is the “new stuff.” We go dancing in. Market studies have shown that this is what consumers want. People yearn to make their lives easier by making things complicated and since everyone relies on the machine, no one can fix any of this new stuff. When it breaks, you replace the “Mother Board,” if there’s one in stock at $1,400 a pop, and the machine must fix the machine.
Boating is full of this new stuff. From the keel up, we have succumbed to tech pressure. It’s all stuff that sounds great and miraculously works—some of the time. Chirp transducers, stabilization gyros, dynamic trim systems, sonar, rap music synced multicolored flashing underwater lights, Rigger cams, man-burning light bars, dynamic positioning, joystick controls, a constellation of artificial satellites for unlimited internet access, and on and on. Boats are now required to have full time on board WiFi so that engine and systems manufacturers can remotely monitor the operation of their product or the potential abuse thereof. Big Brother anyone? Simplicity is passé. Common sense is your father’s cross. Your parents and grandparents relied on their brain. People these days rely on the device, and if you try to simplify, you are assigned a label that is damn hard to overcome. You’ll be referred to as “old-school,” “outdated,” “low-tech,” “antiquated,” “archaic,” or “obsolete,” when all you were doing was trying to make the boat and its systems reliable and predictable.
People say they want simple but what they really mean is easy. “My guidance counselor said I shouldn’t have to work so hard when I grow up.” So, guess what? Here’s what we get: “I don’t feel like checking the engine room every thirty minutes on our way to St. Thomas. Give me at least four cameras down there that I can pull up on one or all of my smart screens.” “I don’t feel like putting a chamois on the exterior surfaces. Give me a dockside and an on board RO water system.” “I don’t feel like checking the bilges. Give me an app on my phone that will do that and link it to an automatic dry bilge system.” “I don’t feel like rinsing the enclosure. Give me misters paired with a digital salt sensor and make sure that’s RO water!” “I don’t feel like managing my shore power. Give me Auto Iso-Boost transformers with seamless transfer to my generators and, oh yeah, have my phone inform me of any power event.” “I don’t want a level playing field in the tournament. God forbid that I would have to rely on my fishing skills for a paycheck. I need sonar to give me an edge.” “I don’t feel like maintaining traditional brightwork. Fly that guy in from parts unknown to smear and swirl brown paint all over my boat and then substitute the word faux for the words fake and lazy.” Faux even sounds hip, like the French, and we can all appreciate their work ethic. None of this is simple, none of this is cheap, and all of this is problematic. Unfortunately, people want this stuff. They gotta have it. So … like my dad often said to me; “Give ‘em what they want, Sonny Boy. If you don’t, they’ll go somewhere else.” Consequently, our new boats are packed with this wizardry because, with the new stuff, taking a stand for simplicity and common sense is a fool’s errand.
This is not a matter of styling. If we never pursued beauty in function and form, we’d all still be driving Model T’s, and our women would look and dress like Eleanor Roosevelt. In addition to evolution in styling, advances in aerodynamics, hydrodynamics, fluid dynamics, propeller theory, materials technology, power plants, etc., have substantially increased performance, efficiency and ride in modern boating. Science is a friend and an indispensable multi-tool in boat building and everything else in life. It’s the gadgets that get me, and the gadgets that allow us to spend more and more time on our ass are the worst. Most folks don’t realize that if you don’t lift a finger, you’ll drop an arm and a leg on your health. The same thing applies in boating. The machine doesn’t worry about maintenance and reliance on that nonchalant, artificial brain can get you into trouble.
It’s a complicated world. How did we ever get this entangled? It is an obvious by-product of complicated people. Our machines imitate us. When I was a kid, we had guys and gals, right and wrong, good and bad. Our machines were simple. You could easily crawl under the hood and fix what was wrong with that small block Chevy. Points, plugs, condenser, throw-out bearing, water pump, etc. Things made sense. Now, all bets are off and all lines are blurred. Just as with technology, our human culture is dependent upon a myriad of labels, switches and updates. It is all about the display and one must be very careful. People these days have so many buttons within their display and if you happen to push the wrong one, you are then assigned a label and all hell breaks loose.
Hell, we’re so complicated that we can’t even define what or who we are. Complicated people are fragile and high maintenance, and our machines reflect that. Here’s an example: When Julia and I drove to the technology store, which also sells smart-appliances, to pick up our new E-oven, it was as if we had fallen smack-dab into the middle of a Tim Conway skit. The two young men (an assumption based on a first glance) at the ramp had no clue how to lift something and place it in the back of a truck. Finally, I said to them: “Here’s what we’re going to do, boys. You two lilies lift that end and I’ll lift this end. We’ll place it on the tailgate and slide her right in.” They then proceeded to engage in a debate as to whether or not this was a viable solution. After immersing themselves in perplexity for a few minutes, they turned to the machine and YouTube to find what might be an acceptable plan to move forward. I waited. Eventually, my temper got the best of me (No! Me?) and I lifted one end, put it on the tailgate, lifted the other end, and slid our new oven into the back of my truck. Julia was shocked and appalled at their ineptitude and as we drove away, I explained to her that we witness this behavior in the trades every day with new hires. This is the new stuff.
What have we done to these kids? Surely, we taught them about the great outdoors. Surely, we taught them to run, skip, jump, laugh, play, lift and pull. Surely, we taught them problem solving skills. Surely, we taught them about sticks and stones and words. Nope, that’s the old stuff. We want the new stuff. We want the new magic. We want the machine to control every aspect of our lives. We want labels and switches. We had better re-think this new stuff soon and kick the habit. Allow it to continue and our grandkids will succumb to muscle atrophy, relying on AI and robotics to get them through the day as they shed their (thin)skin, transition into a bunch of goo and melt into the couch. It’s getting scary, folks. The machines are already asking if you’re one of them. Please, people, as soon as you finish reading this, make sure to click here if you’re not a robot. Should I text or e-mail the code?
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This article originally appeared in the February 2024 issue of Power & Motoryacht magazine.
Source: https://www.powerandmotoryacht.com/column/stem-to-stern-the-new-stuff
