Ever since Henry Ford worked his wonders, most Americans have been able to afford a car, but chauffeured rides long remained the exclusive province of the uber-rich. “Jeeves, have the car ready at 6 to take me to the club.”

Over the holidays I was a regular Rockefeller. Using a handheld computer that astrophysicists could only dream about a few decades ago, I summoned Ubers and Lyfts that arrived lickety-split to take me anywhere I desired. One stop was the airport, where I was whisked across the empyrean like a Greek god (or Santa Claus).

High in the sky, I recalled the late great Tom Wolfe’s observation that the average American enjoys material comforts that would be the envy of the Sun King himself, Louis XIV.

Gen X, Y, and Zers may find it hard to believe, but a mere century ago, there was no air conditioning or television, let alone smartphones. Boomers who are shocked when anybody dies before their 90th birthday – what happened? – may vaguely recall that the few people who made it to a ripe old age in the olden days were often confined to wheelchairs because they couldn’t swap out their hips and knees. Obesity was not a crisis because few people had too much to eat. And they didn’t smile in pictures because their teeth were a horror show. Worst of all, almost everyone had to drink bad coffee.

And yet, even as I marveled in the blue yonder, annoyance seeped into my bean. I was stuck on an older plane that didn’t offer Wi-Fi service and figured dollars to donuts I’d have to wait a half hour for my checked bag to hit the carousel –........

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