THANKS, NAVBITCH!
Here’s an admission from a travel writer: I have an appalling sense of direction.
I can’t read maps, even when I turn them around to face the way I’m going, and when I ask for directions I can never remember anything after “Head that way…”
Which is why on the weekend I found myself up a creek without a paddle. Or more accurately in a creek, in my car, no paddle, no people within cooee and a sinking feeling that this wasn’t where I wanted to be.
One word of explanation. GPS.
Until the moment the car’s bonnet started to disappear under water, I’d viewed my GPS as a lifesaver. I’d grown to love the way “she” told me where to go – in the nicest possible way of course – and got me from A to B without visiting Z, which was my usual MO.
The weekend rendezvous seemed simple enough. A lunch with old friends near Daylesford, an area I’ve been to so often it feels like the back of my hand.
To be fair, it all went swimmingly at first. I was within four kilometres of our lunch spot, or so I was told, the road was looking vaguely familiar even though I couldn’t spot a road sign, and then “she” of the dulcet tones insisted that I do a U-turn and turn left at the first road to the right.
Righto, I’ll do as she says, after all, who am I to argue with an expert? Last week lost my way in the suburb I’ve lived in for 20 years.
Initially I was pleased with the turn that took me away from the main road into some the prettiest country in Victoria. Towering gums, hardly a house to be seen, lots of birds, sure the road was a little wet but the Subaru is built for such conditions.
A couple of kilometres on, the bush was denser, the houses were non-existent, and the puddles had spread across the entire road, which was soft where it wasn’t rutted, but still she was insistent: “Continue straight ahead. Destination in one kilometre.”
Ever the optimist, I decided the way ahead was surely better than the road I’d just travelled.
So I did what I was told.
Wrong, horribly wrong, which is how I ended up in deep water. You don’t need to know all the details — I swear it didn’t look like a creek, more a broad puddle — it’s all too humiliating.
Suffice to say my nerve didn’t hold as the bonnet started to sink. I opened the door, the water rushed in; I made a grab for my phone, my bag, and for some inexplicable reason, the GPS, and waded to higher ground.
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12 Responses to this article
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Helen September 7, 2012
Oh you poor thing – but very brave to share it all with us!
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muriel September 7, 2012
Unfortunate though the episode was, you somehow managed to translate it into an entertaining and enthralling story!
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KM September 7, 2012
I have had unfortunate episodes with my Navman but none as hilarious as yours! Still, a with sense of direction like yours, I think you’ll be hunting through that IGA bin sooner rather than later! Kate
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Jane Corbett-Jones September 7, 2012
Oh Kay, I thought this sort of thing only happened in cop shows! I doubt any Sat Nav war story will compete with that one. Glad you survived to tell the tale, and so amusingly.
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Jackie K September 7, 2012
”I have set the gps for the morning, so you will be fine” said my niece’s husband. I was to get the children up and into the car, and drive to The Rocks to meet them. All ok until every time ‘she’ said turn I met ‘road closed’ we were going round in diminishing circles. ”Can’t you see the road is blocked!” The children are getting worried, I am talking to the gps woman. A charity event has shut down Sydney (not my home town). I phone my niece. ”Where are you?” ”I don’t know but I see a harbour tunnel sign.” ”Go there” she says. With the kids crying we plunge into the dark tunnel, and I turn off gps lady. Somehow I reach a sign North Sydney Station. I call my niece. “How did you get there?” “No idea, just instinct” I say. ”Well done.. wait there we will catch the train.”
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sally September 8, 2012
Kay, that made me laugh out loud … and brought back memories. The Sat Nav man in the hire car in Sicily insisted he knew the way to the small country town we were after. By the time the road turned into nothing more than a goat track, we knew we had trusted wrongly in him.
When we came across a river that he clearly didn’t even know was there, we knew we were hopelessly lost but our Sat Nav man kept insisting we plough on and almost seemed to get cross when we did a u-turn. We have since changed the “voice” to a lovely lady with an Irish lilt who tells me in her calm and soothing way to “take the motorway”. Even when I do the wrong thing, she never gets angry, just a little confused. -
Catherine September 8, 2012
Wonderful story,can’t stop laughing.You certainly have a way with words.
Reminds me of a family holiday to QLD in the late 60′s.Dad got lost going from Melbourne to Albury.All we had was a map from the RACV and mum in the death seat giving instructions.
Technology was always going to be just too hard for us Baby Boombers.
Never loose your sense of humour even when you are up s##tcreek without a paddle.
I am Baby Boomer traveller and just love your stories Kay,Keep it up -
Rhoda September 10, 2012
Glad all ended well for you, Kay!
Wouldn’t depend on a navman in a blue fit. Was with a friend and her navman in an area I knew and it took a roundabout way. I went along with it because she plainly depended on it. Lot of fuel and time wasted in my opinion.
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Linda September 10, 2012
Was laughing out loud at this, Kay.
I can so relate and am very pleased to hear of others who are similarly spatially challenged.
I am terrified to use the GPS after driving, under instruction, from Chatswood to Redfern, via Randwick (sydneysiders will appreciate the absurdity)!
Fortunately, I had left myself buckets of time. I had planned to spend an hour before my 9am meeting casually going through my notes while sipping a flat white.
Instead, at 8.55am, I was on the phone, weeping in frustration to a colleague, who happened to live nearby and kindly talked me in via the mobile.
Navlady has since sat, in silent disgrace, in my glovebox.
Now, when I’m lost, I use my Sydways and my iphone. -
Aileen September 12, 2012
Oh Kay, thank heavens it was only your pride that was injured! I view my Navnag as effective in short bursts only – I can’t bear it when she/he hasn’t uploaded their software upgrade and they think that the Calder extension is a cow paddock. There I am, zooming along at 110kmh, with roo fences protecting me from the local wildlife, while the Navnag keeps telling me to find the nearest road and take it. Straight back into the glove box it goes. This morning I tried to search for a railway station so that I could pick up a stranded friend – it had NO idea! Stay dry, Best, Aileen
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sue bell September 15, 2012
Sat Navs sound like some of the taxi drivers I have driven with.
