I bought a car the other day.

It's that classic Isle of Wight-registered Holy Grail of a vehicle; 14 years old yet with a mere 6,300 miles on the clock - as verified by its full service history - and previously owned by that fabled old gubber who only used it locally on high days and holidays, before hanging up their ignition keys for good.

Its preposterously low mileage was a big incentive, but my favourite thing about my new
Mitsubishi is the console.

It pre-dates those new-fangled touchscreen operating systems; instead it's all backlit plastic buttons and rachetty dials which rotate into position with a satisfying click.

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I'm happy not to have a big telly in the middle of my dashboard.

I don't want to have to paw blindly at its permanently illuminated display; attention distracted from the road as I attempt to scroll between satnav, ventilation controls and radio tuning to find the settings I seek.

The government forbids us to finger our phones when driving, so how is it ok to operate an
integrated touchscreen?

One reason for the pervasiveness of onboard computers in modern cars is that digital
controls are cheaper to install than those on physical knobs and stalks.

Another, more insidious reason, is that collected analytics could be used to monitor driving
habits.

It takes a particularly diligent motorist to assess the terms and conditions of their car's digital ear-wigging.

Haulage and fleet users, plus new drivers, have long been used to 'black box' technology.

However, there has been a recent outcry in the US (which has different data protection laws
from the UK) as drivers have woken up to the fact that car manufacturers are effectively
spying on them, wirelessly sending heaps of specific data - known as telematics - which is
shared or sold to third parties, including insurance firms, data brokers, advertisers, and the
government.

Owners' personal information, including that syphoned from connected smartphones, driving patterns, location tracking and even media analytics which snoop at listening preferences such as music genres and volume settings, are gathered.

"So what?" you may ask.

The insurance industry assures us that this harvesting of personal data could cut the cost of premiums - to the motorist's advantage.

However, in the tin-foil hat regions of the internet, stories emerge of American law
enforcement and intelligence agencies appropriating in-car technology to track vehicles,
listen to conversations, and even to remotely slow down cars during pursuits.

Could this be true? Apparently.

In September, President Biden's administration called the use of Chinese-made vehicles a "serious risk to national security", expounding: "a foreign adversary could shut down or take control of all its vehicles… all at the same time, causing crashes and blocking roads." Crikey!

Emerging from this dystopian telematics rabbit hole, I'm even more delighted that my new
motor is effectively analogue.

I can drive around the Island secure that my in-car shenanigans are not being eavesdropped on by spyware in my cab.

But who's coming along for the ride in YOUR car?