Traveling Through the Dark
Traveling Through the Dark is an in-progress art and science collaboration between Rebecca Rouse and Maurice Lamb, both at University of Skövde. Using a full-scale immersive car simulator VR CAVE system, we are developing an interactive narrative experience to invite interactors into the university lab to think together with us about possible car futures. What will human-machine relationships look like in the frame of the AI-powered self-driving car? What will be lost, as the car system as we know it is radically transformed? The car is more than a vehicle for mobility, having served over the last century and a quarter as a vehicle for identity, culture, and freedom. How will cars of the future and people come together through shared experience to drive into what lies beyond?
Part of our project involves collecting stories of "Car Memories" from childhood recollection. These stories will be presented as a series of triptychs, with the story text at center, flanked by a portrait of the storyteller on the left, and a portrait of the car featured in the memory story on the right. These Car Memory triptychs will be displayed on the walls of our university lab, adjacent to the car simulator. These story texts will also be used to seed an AI-enabled story generation system, allowing the voice of the car in our interactive simulator system to draw on the collective history and memory of the car system.
You can read about the research questions we aim to investigate with this project in our short paper from the 2021 Swedish Cognitive Science Society conference here:
Part of our project involves collecting stories of "Car Memories" from childhood recollection. These stories will be presented as a series of triptychs, with the story text at center, flanked by a portrait of the storyteller on the left, and a portrait of the car featured in the memory story on the right. These Car Memory triptychs will be displayed on the walls of our university lab, adjacent to the car simulator. These story texts will also be used to seed an AI-enabled story generation system, allowing the voice of the car in our interactive simulator system to draw on the collective history and memory of the car system.
You can read about the research questions we aim to investigate with this project in our short paper from the 2021 Swedish Cognitive Science Society conference here:
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Share your car story!
Do you have a memory of a car from when you were a child or young person? A story of desire, curiosity, adventure, or even fear? We would love to share your story through this project. If you are interested in participating, please contact Rebecca at rouse (dot) rebecca (at) gmail (dot) com.
Example Car Memory Triptychs
Joachim Nordwall and 1968 Mercury Cougar (Gothenburg, Sweden)
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When I was about ten my cousin got a 1968 Mercury Cougar muscle car. He had imported it from the States and was super proud. To me, it was truly the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. It was milky white, with dark windows and leather seats inside. It smelled very strange and foreign. And I wanted it badly of course. He took me out for rides in it and I was actually dreaming about it at night. I tried to make the math in how long it would take me to drive it, and if it would be a possibility at all. When I was 18, the car was gone and my cousin was driving a Mazda. I still think about the Mercury Cougar sometimes.
Sandra Rouse and 1954 Ford Crestliner (Troy, NY - USA)
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At 16 years old in 1963, I was awarded my driver’s license. Thanks to the firm guidance of my father I had learned to drive on a shift car at his insistence. It was a baby blue 1954 Ford sedan with an elegant steering wheel of smooth silver. One of my freedoms was to drive the car on Sundays, a time of little competing traffic, to the local Dunkin' Donuts for a variety dozen and coffees along with the Sunday Providence Journal. My younger brother came along to hold the tray of coffees and paper. Along the route there was a major hill to descend at an intersection before entering the donut shop. Instead of downshifting, I would coast the hill with my foot on the clutch and softly ride the brake. But my greatest fear was the return ride. If there was a red light at the intersection I would have to do a cold start from 1st, then shift to 2nd and 3rd on the hill. There was always the fear of bucking the clutch, an enormous embarrassment I had endured many times with my father. So, leaving the donut shop I would cautiously approach the intersection and gauge the opportunity for a green light never leaving 2nd gear. After the turn, under the traffic light, I could accelerate through the intersection and quickly shift into 3rd before the ascent, leaving my brother in awe holding the tray of coffee cups over the newspaper on his lap. We held our collective breath until we crested the hill. The newspaper was always delivered dry. I am proud to this day for having learned to drive a stick shift but the Ford was the first and only one of its kind for me.
William Rouse, 1952 Plymouth Cranbrook (Washington DC - USA)
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When I was 14 in 1961, I bought a 1952 Plymouth Cranbrook for $35. This car is shown here in mint condition. Mine was not. It needed a lot of work to combat extensive rust and become legally drivable. For example, I had to remove the seats and devise new flooring. Consequently, my blue and white Plymouth included big patches of red primer. My plan was to teach myself to drive and get my driver’s permit on my 15th birthday, which I did. I remember nagging my mother that day until she agreed to accompany me on Freeborn Street – in a snow storm. My goal was to get my license when I turned 16, which I actually did on the day of my 16th birthday.
I could not legally practice driving on public roads. Fortunately, there were many private farm roads nearby. Before venturing onto those roads, I needed to work on the basics of using the clutch to change gears. I asked our landlord, Mrs. Cooke, if I could practice on the empty field next to our house. She readily agreed.
I eagerly practiced driving in circles, starting in first gear and, once up to speed, shifting to second gear. I could never get going fast enough to get into third gear. I always circled to the left, never to the right. I am not sure why. Consequently, I ventured onto public roads never having been in third gear and never having turned right.
My aunt, Nancy Lantz, was the Portsmouth reporter for the Newport Daily News. (Portsmouth is on the north end of Aquidneck Island; Newport on the south end). She had access to the aerial photographs taken of Portsmouth to plan the extension of Route 24 through the town. She gave me the photo shown below. She asked me if I realized that I had created a driver training course. I was completely surprised, never having thought about this possibility. Once I had mastered clutching and shifting, I could drive to Portsmouth center – a cluster of a half dozen stores – using only private farm roads. These roads were pretty rough and thus tough on the car. Parts loosened and I had to spot and fix them before they fell off. The carburetor was particularly vulnerable. I lost a key linkage that I had to fix with parts from my Erector Set as I could not afford to purchase parts.
I got my license as planned and hit the open roads. The Plymouth lasted about six months. Its demise was due to knocking connector rods caused by a lack of oil. I knew to check the oil regularly, but did not know that cars had oil filters. Not having changed it, mine was completely clogged. An important lesson.
I could not legally practice driving on public roads. Fortunately, there were many private farm roads nearby. Before venturing onto those roads, I needed to work on the basics of using the clutch to change gears. I asked our landlord, Mrs. Cooke, if I could practice on the empty field next to our house. She readily agreed.
I eagerly practiced driving in circles, starting in first gear and, once up to speed, shifting to second gear. I could never get going fast enough to get into third gear. I always circled to the left, never to the right. I am not sure why. Consequently, I ventured onto public roads never having been in third gear and never having turned right.
My aunt, Nancy Lantz, was the Portsmouth reporter for the Newport Daily News. (Portsmouth is on the north end of Aquidneck Island; Newport on the south end). She had access to the aerial photographs taken of Portsmouth to plan the extension of Route 24 through the town. She gave me the photo shown below. She asked me if I realized that I had created a driver training course. I was completely surprised, never having thought about this possibility. Once I had mastered clutching and shifting, I could drive to Portsmouth center – a cluster of a half dozen stores – using only private farm roads. These roads were pretty rough and thus tough on the car. Parts loosened and I had to spot and fix them before they fell off. The carburetor was particularly vulnerable. I lost a key linkage that I had to fix with parts from my Erector Set as I could not afford to purchase parts.
I got my license as planned and hit the open roads. The Plymouth lasted about six months. Its demise was due to knocking connector rods caused by a lack of oil. I knew to check the oil regularly, but did not know that cars had oil filters. Not having changed it, mine was completely clogged. An important lesson.