...
To continue Buhr's analogy, let's suppose that our automotive user 
suffers a true disaster: he gets what he asks for.  We join him as he 
enters his car...

When I entered the car, I was surprised to see only one light on the 
dashboard.  When I looked in the owners manual, I found that whenever 
anything went wrong, the light came on, displaying a question mark.  
"The experienced driver," the manual said, " will usually know what's 
wrong." 

I continue reading the manual.  In the section on the transmission, 
there was a list of known problems.  The list contained a single item: 
"Behaves strangely on nights with full moons." (Actually, I was rather 
proud of having puzzled out that I was reading about the transmission, 
because it was always referred to as "xn" in the manual.)

Further on, I read "This brash sequence of actions attempts to get the 
car onto the left-hand lane of a one-way street," followed by a 
mixture of Labanotation and one-letter flags.

Later that week, I tried a left turn.  I found out that one does 
different things to turn left in each gear.  Unfortunately, the index 
only had an entry for left turns in second gear.  The shade-tree 
mechanic down the street saved my life by telling me that that page 
actually had a description of how to turn left in all gears; they just 
hadn't bothered to update the index.

Before changing the oil, I read "... an addled dipstick should be 
treated gently.  Experience and informed courage count for much."

Eventually I got to a point at which I couldn't figure out from the 
manual what to do.  The shade-tree mechanic down the street said, 
"Shoot, you don't need the manual.  You can always take your car apart 
to find out what you want to know."  Unfortunately, the dealer could 
only give me the low price I got because I bought the car with the 
insides sealed up.

A few days later I found out that an error in opening the glove 
compartment disintegrates its contents.

I now own a bicycle.