Or rather, a lack thereof. Why is is that mechanical buttons are being replaced by touchscreens? With every car model refresh, washing machine re-iteration or even new pressure washer model, a button disappears and a small touchscreen-enabled panel appears or grows in size. That’s what I’d call a big design mistake.
Nicolas Magand beat me to it with his critique on on car dashboard and interior design. Especially in cars, the last two iterations of the new designs aggressively pushed the implementation of touchscreens. Many car brands such as Tesla or Cupra from SEAT seem to go all-in and simply jam an iPad-like into the cockpit and call it a day. The ugly screen that protrudes in a weird way from the dashboard not only looks out of place (that’s a polite way of saying bad) but also poses a treat to the safety of the driver and others as you take your eyes off the road to try and “press” something instead of controlling the AC with the help of haptic feedback.
I leased a second generation Peugeot 308 in 2016 that came with a “brand new touchscreen system interface” controlling most of the car’s features such as the airconditioning. I hated it: it was slow (a “press” took a second to react) and devoid of feedback (there wasn’t anything to “feel”). A button has a certain springiness—that’s why people who work with computers all day love mechanical keyboards. Feedback. Pressing a virtual button on a touchscreen? No feedback.
Besides the terrible software that usually controls the screen, introducing latency when speed is important, the replacement of a true button by a virtual one introduces another problem. While the financial department will hail the adoption rate of cheap touchscreens as a major achievement, I hope the UI/UX department is a bit more reserved. Yet in practice, since “anything is possible” on a blank screen, I’m sure their enthusiasm to use the latest and greatest combined with a pressing deadline yields a lesser product. The terrible interfaces are easy to spot and everywhere. I don’t know why we as a consumer stomach them.
Hopefully, our ten year old Volvo manages to keep it together for another ten years. We bought the second hand end-of-lease car in 2020. To avoid analysis paralysis when faced with the many car manufacturing choices, I just went with the one I once drove as a company car that (1) felt very comfortably to sit in and (2) radiated peace in the cockpit. Subjectiveness of both facts aside, the centre console—installed slightly diagonally towards the driver—features… mechanical buttons.
There are four big knobs that are very satisfying to turn with clear feedback: the volume and menu controls on top and AC controls on the bottom. Between the knobs, there are a few more buttons to navigate the interface and a classic numeric keyboard reminiscent of nineties landline phones. The buttons are sturdy and I can press them whilst keeping my eyes on the road if I need to. Not that I often need to: the most-used buttons are the big knobs to turn up/down the volume and AC. The volume is also adjustable with buttons installed on the steering wheel itself.
A friend recently remarked “oh wow that’s a small screen!”. Yes it is, it’s a car from 2016, remember? But the screen is non-invasive: it doesn’t get in my way. It’s fully integrated, not touchscreen, and displays the map just fine when I need a GPS. Unfortunately, the second generation V60 got rid of most of the buttons in favour of… a touchscreen. Nicolas is right: we need something better than touchscreens in cars.
The problem isn’t limited to cars. Our washing machine broke down last month, refusing to do anything at all. After two repair jobs, it was apparently time to be replaced. Again, not wanting to sink in hours and hours of time researching potential replacement candidates, we just went with the same AEG brand. Guess what: the boring white front panel with mechanical buttons has been replaced by a sleek black design—touchscreen, of course.
The lack of feedback is not the biggest problem. As a short-sighted person, I usually “feel” the buttons and know by heart where to push to just get on with it. Turning the washing machine on was one of those things. I can no longer do that as the front panel feels the same regardless of where you put your finger. Sure, remembering the exact position works, but it doesn’t fix an accidental wrong press. Luckily, the giant knob that selects the washing program is still there. That’s of course part of the core branding/design of any washing machine.
We bloggers love to shout Build Websites That Last but perhaps we should generalise instead: Build Stuff That Lasts. But why should the automotive industry do something like that when they’re motivated by company leases to renew their models roughly every four years? Especially in Belgium, more than half of the cars on the road are company leases. I also expected the washing machine to last 20 years. It stranded at 14 including two repairs. I’ve read reports claiming the average front-loader lasts between 7 and 8 years (others say 10 to 12) so I guess we were lucky.
At least they’re not shoving AI crap in our cars and washers.
Oh, wait.
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