Topic: You want to stop a 3rd gen buzzer? - Hire a hitman

A sweet Friday afternoon. I thought I'd spend the day working on my truck, do some wiring in anticipation of some new lights, clean the corners, clean the K&N, I'm sure you're all familiar.
I've been enjoying two days off before covering F1 racing this weekend. How could I go wrong?

Now I write to you, this is the confession of a killer. Have mercy for no one knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men.

I decided to reconnect the door switch that I had disconnected out of angry frustration with the notorious piezo buzzer in Toyotas. I was tired of leaving my lights on and worrying about the door locking spontaneously.

I thought I would embark on a little search and destroy mission against the buzzer- little did I know the mission would be more like Heart of Darkness than The Bridge Over the Kwai.

I dug deep and deeper into the dark jungle of wires and bolts that is hidden behind the dash of all our pride rides. Following that maddening tone I wondered how could something so frightening exist within the belly of these beautiful machines we adore?

Courage and tenacity finally brought me to the circuit board behind the instrument panel. My hair must have turned white out of the insanity that inccessant buzzing created in me. The turmoil, anguish and violence of it all was overwhelming.

Three brass screws removed a white plastic panel protecting the fragile circuit board, the wizard of this Oz...my Kurtz.

A small black cylinder with a tiny breathing hole, pinging with its two pretentious tones and gentle fade as if putting a tuxedo on Charles Manson would make him a gentlemen.

There is no masking the cruelty of this little device that treats everyone like an ignorant fool.

Those engineers at Toyota are sick bastards.

By this time my hands were shaking and the anxiety in my gut could have been cut into pieces and sold for a handsome reward to any paranoiac. My search had ended and what lay before me was the destroy element of my mission.

Plastic mouldings, tools and screws were strewn all over the seats and floor of my 99 desert dune SR5 4Runner. Laying next to a screwdriver lay a small awl. I don't know how it got there, but it was there, my right hand lurched for it, and in a small intentional thrust I poked the awl into the hole of the beast. It responded with a change of pitch, then tone.

I had awoken the dragon and it wanted to fight. I dug the tip of the awl deeper into the metal plates of the beast and began to sweep it around until I could hear pieces of plastic crack and feel the slow pain of bending metal.

The beast fought, and lurched. Sometimes it made sounds to scare me, like it was arcing, then it howled calling on all its energy. But I continued the proud fight. One of use was going to drink the champagne out of the trophy, and it wasn't going to be Toyota.

Then something happened, it began whimpered, and wept and asked for mercy. It had given up the fight and tried to compromise, it reduced the volume of its noise, it changed its pattern to a simple tone.

But my blood was still boiling, I could see no other denouement to this story than to kill that device, no exceptions, no mercy "take no prisoners".

As it cried I continued. Piercing its little metal heart, gouging it's silicone face, scarring it's plastic skin.

Until in a final murmur, it blipped and died.

I am not the same person anymore. I put the dash back together, but my heart is heavy. I've muted my machine, and all it wanted was attention, like a barking puppy it wanted to play. Like a turk, I got drunk on battle and tore it apart.

Have mercy.

Ian


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