This is a fictional scenario about car data, that can be avoided (*):
The year is 2025. My friends have heard me talking about clean, affordable cars for some years and my intense lobbying led many of them to choose an electric vehicle (EV) to cut their daily mobility costs.
I recently made the decision to buy a car too. I went to the dealership, aware of all the technical characteristics of the cars I had in mind, and certain I would make a well-informed choice.
The car I bought is not a mere EV. It’s a connected car, full of fancy features. That’s what got me.
My data, the ultimate key to my car?
After asking the brand of my smartphone (it seemed important) the salesperson offered me a car that would be linked to it. It would also be linked to my computer and my home, thanks to a voice assistant capable of interacting with my other connected objects. Also included in the offer: a series of attractive services. To top it all off, with the purchase came free ‘Premium’ access for a year to an online sales platform called ‘Nile’, and discounts on recharging my car via the brand’s partners. A few signatures, a few clicks to accept the terms of use – which are usually too complex and lengthy anyway – and the connected car was mine.
But the dream slowly turned into a nightmare. This car definitely knows a lot about me and my habits, and not only the mobility-related ones. And I now feel completely trapped by its initially tempting, but later restrictive, service proposals.
Into the abyss of paid subscriptions
It all started with updates to “improve my user experience” followed by many consent requests with endless terms of use I could not be bothered to read – I have more important things in life to do! One year after the purchase, the renewal of my “Premium” account turned out to be…essential. Several features that I had become used to were linked to a paid account, as well as the installation of new applications.
Gradually, other services also became payable by monthly subscription or via a direct purchase on my car screen. As a regular user of a music application, I also had to upgrade my subscription: the simple connection via the account on my phone was no longer sufficient, as it was interspersed with advertisements and had a limited catalogue.
Subscription costs of my video-on-demand account had also increased. Because I had used the screen in my car to watch a video while recharging, I was unwittingly switched from a ‘Family’ to ‘Family+’ subscription according to clause number 2353 of the terms and conditions I signed months ago. A pop-up message had come up on my screen while my kids were fighting at the back to decide which movie to watch between ‘Frozen 7’ or ‘Mary Poppins Goes to Space’.
Captive to my own car
My friends also told me about this new app that compares charging station prices. I couldn’t install it directly on my car, which automatically refused to share technical data or my charging and travel habits. So I had to enter this information manually via my smartphone. Shortly after, I realised my vehicle was automatically directing me to certain charging stations, and that the “promotions” it offered me were not the best deals I could have hoped for.
The opposite situation also occurred, when I had to stop on my way to a friend’s with only 10% of battery: my voice assistant said the charging station automatically selected by my car had increased its prices for no apparent reason. The only reason I could think of was that my car knew I had no choice but to stop and recharge, therefore it chose a charging station owned by the same company as my vehicle. The smartphone app, on the other hand, showed a lower price for a terminal just two kilometres away…
As I continued talking to my friends, I realised we were not all paying the same amount for similar services. Everyone was entitled to their own personalised ‘package’. Our driving aids, the installation of new applications, and even maintenance had a different price. Unfortunately, it was impossible to exchange good deals between ourselves. So I couldn’t enjoy the same services as my friends at the same prices, because we had different smartphones or our car systems were not compatible.
Using suggestions makes the most of my inertia – a well-known consumer feature
Worse still, having suffered two punctures in quick succession, I discovered I was charged more for the replacement operation – ordered via my vehicle’s control screen from the garage it had selected for me. While there were ways to change the tyres for less elsewhere, I have to admit the app’s design and easy order process led me straight to follow its “suggestion”. Until the insurance policy I had signed when I bought my car – also linked to my “Premium” account – increased my premium, directly from my credit card.
The final blow came a few months later, when my voice assistant spoke to me as I was driving along peacefully. It suggested a small detour to pick up and deliver the package of another user of this Nile online sales platform I mentioned earlier. The reward was a big one: 10% off my next purchase.
Here I was, transformed into a deliveryman by my own vehicle. And you know what? I agreed. Yes, I thought about changing the data access settings, about not linking my “Premium” account to my vehicle anymore.
But was it really worth the effort? After all, 10% off…
Epilogue
(*) This fiction can be avoided. By regulating access to car data via a sector-specific law.