Turned off by OnStar whiner

It’s an onboard system that, among other things, does diagnostic checks, pops open your doors if you lock your keys in and gives you cool buttons to push to summon emergency help or make a phone call that becomes hands-free.

I envisioned lying upside down in a ditch as a snowplow roared by, never seeing me as I dangled from my seatbelt. OnStar’s peace of mind factor won the day.

The salesman helped these visions, admittedly, even planted them perhaps, but I signed up anyway. Let me count the ways of my second thoughts.

I have a cellphone. There is always one cellphone on board — and usually three.

I do not drive cross-country on dark, remote roads, although I admit some do just that.

I haven’t locked the keys in a car in 25 years. You need the remote doohickey to lock the doors anyway, and if it’s swinging from the ignition, anyone over 6 would have to make an effort to do this.

I have regular service performed on my cars. I have a CAA membership for roadside situations.

For the past year, I have largely ignored the OnStar stuff. They send me an email once a month to tell me everything is fine (it is useful to see where my oil life is at).

I purchased some hands-free minutes because it was kind of fun to talk to the disembodied voice that knew I was sitting in my driveway. Upon reflection, I soon decided this was creepy, not fun.

Three different times I tried to make a phone call with the system. As I sped down the highway screaming my sister’s phone number over and over, the kids would tell me to cut it out and dial her themselves on my cellphone.

Battling crackle on the line, the perky OnStar lady kept saying she couldn’t understand me, could I repeat the number. I felt like punching her. The single time I actually got through, my sister’s voice filled the van, yelling that she couldn’t understand me. I gave up.

Today I got a letter inviting me to sign up for another year of OnStar’s basic Safe & Sound service, for the monthly rate of $24.95. Seems my first year had come with the van, and now I would need to pay. They offered to automatically renew. I called them.

“I’d like to cancel my OnStar, please,” I said.

“Oh, well, is there some special reason?” asked Cubicle 37.

“Do I need one?”

“Well, you really should know that, because you called, I’m authorized to give you a better rate on your subscription,” he said, conspiratorially.

“Why wouldn’t you offer me the reduced rate in my letter? I’m already a customer, aren’t I? Is it just the whiner rate?”

“No, you don’t understand,” he said, stupidly. “I have special authorization to give you this rate.”

“Uhm, I totally understand,” I said, wisely. “If I don’t complain, you charge me more. What’s to understand?”

I hate, hate, hate companies that do this. I call and cancel everything, all the time, just to get better rates.

“Well,” he continued, “I can’t just call every person and tell them of this rate.”

“Well, you sent them all a letter, didn’t you? Why couldn’t you have put the proper rate in those letters?”

He sensed this wasn’t going well.

He offered me $14.95 a month. I declined. He listed everything I would be losing, including those wind tunnel phone minutes.

If OnStar calls, ask for $14.95 a month. If you decide you’re one of those who need it.

Lorraine Sommerfeld’s column appears Thursday on wheels.ca