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My 2020 Hyundai comes with two owner’s manuals. One — 46 pages — is reserved for the multimedia system. Together they are about 6cm thick and I’ve driven cars with books twice as long. My dad’s 1966 AMC Rambler Classic manual is 40 pages. Although Canada only officially became bilingual in 1969, it is carefully written in English and French.

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The opening page ends with this paragraph: “Your dealership is part of the team that cares vitally about you and your new car. He knows our product best and is interested in you and your new car. OK, maybe not so advanced after all. However.

The Rambler Classic line included a two- and four-door sedan, station wagon (which we had) and convertible. The manual covers them all. He explains that you can’t lock your keys in the car, because you have to lock it with the key when you go out. I know the AMC wagon we had a decade later didn’t have this feature because I locked my keys in that car so often I was on a first name basis with CAA drivers. It also tells you to warm up the key with a match or lighter if your locks are frozen. Because everyone was smoking. That’s why they also state that you should “keep lit cigarettes away from vent caps as combustible gas is present.”

It explains how to operate the Power-Lift tailgate glass. We didn’t have that. Nor the electric windshield wipers. Ditto the Vibra-Tone audio system. No to Flash-O-Matic transmission; we had a three on the tree. The convertible top instructions simply say Up or Down. We didn’t have a convertible. “A pair of seat back supports will be supplied by your dealer at nominal cost if bed conversion is desired.” My father didn’t want them. The Power-Lift side window instructions consisted of high tech up, down, lock and unlock. We didn’t have any either. Power brakes deserved six sentences. We didn’t need any of them.

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The manual assures me that Rambler automatic transmission fluid is “superior to regular types. It passed the most rigorous qualification tests. The accompanying artwork makes it look like Andy Warhol drew it right after he finished the Campbell’s Soup Can. The Road-Control power steering only needed three sentences. We didn’t need those instructions either. I don’t know if we had the Twin Grip differential, although I hope we did because my dad used this cart to pull up tree stumps with chain scraps at the cabin.

Climate control was handled by something called Weather-Eye. Three levers. After having to dive level after level into the endless touchscreens of many new cars just to turn up the heat, I’d like a return to something closer to Weather-Eye. I recognize, however, how much easier it is to listen to the radio these days. “To properly adjust the antenna [whaa?] to the radio, extend the antenna to full length and park the car in an open space away from buildings, power lines, streetcar tracks and anything that may cause interference. I can safely say that if you drive a 1966 Rambler today, you will never be able to adjust the antenna.

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There are complete instructions for checking and filling your transmission fluid, fuel filter, and air filter; the best way to change your tires; and the safest way to remove the radiator cap after “a long hard drive”. They suggest you use Rambler-Gard coolant, but admit that plain water will do in a pinch. There’s lots of detail on the fuses, circuit breakers, and bulbs, but surprisingly, it’s only when discussing positive crankcase ventilation that they mention, “your American Motors dealer is experienced in servicing appropriate PCV system.” I have never seen a manual that mentions the dealership even once. I’ve also never seen a textbook that has a single page for its index.

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In 1966, they devoted two pages of the manual to Driving Tips. They break it down: city driving, country driving, hot weather driving, cold weather driving and economical driving. My car’s manual has five pages dedicated solely to explaining electronic stability control, with just one caveat. “Never drive too fast for road conditions or too fast in turns. The ESC system will not prevent accidents. In other words, if after five pages you’re still rolling over your head, you’re an idiot.

This old wagon was a naked beast with a V8 so thirsty you could watch the gauge drop as you drove, especially when Dad loaded it up with lumber. Or patio slabs. Or concrete blocks. I didn’t know we could have so many fancy things until I found the manual years ago. I’m grateful for the safety and reliability of the new stuff, but I can’t help but wish more things were as simple as the Flash-O-Matic and Vibra-Tone.