We got lost – a lot. And that was OK.
Last weekend, the husband and I spent a glorious Saturday traversing country roads through Quebec and Ontario visiting family in the 2012 Porsche Boxster S Black Edition I'd landed for the week. As soon as I brought the fancifully dressed two-seater home on the previous Monday, my husband was already planning the route and calling various family members to announce our visit that coming Saturday.
It was set to be a perfectly planned, flawless day.
After all, we'd just bought ourselves a state-of-the-art Garmin GPS system, plus the Porsche was equipped with its own onboard navigation system should the Garmin get confused, and my husband even emailed himself Google map directions that could easily be brought up on his Blackberry should there be a need.
That Saturday arrived and the weather was perfect: 9 a.m., clear blue skies, average temperature of about 23°C, a Tim Horton's coffee in each flimsy cupholder and the Garmin already squawking at us to turn right in 900 metres, and we were off to explore the unknown country roads with the wind in our hair and the sound of the Boxster S exhaust barking at our backs.
That lasted about 10 minutes, until the Garmin kept trying to direct us to a highway. One of our specifications for this adventure was: No major motorways. Side streets and twisty country roads only. The Garmin didn't seem to understand this and she was adamant that we head straight to the highway and save ourselves a few extra hours of travel time.
We continued to defy her, she continued to recalculate. Apparently there was a way to ask her to avoid all major highways, but as we'd just bought this state-of-the-art (and suddenly highly annoying) piece of equipment, neither of us knew how to make her shut up about the stupid highway. So we carried on... until we got lost.
Fortunately, my husband learned very early on, that stopping and asking for directions is in no way emasculating. And so, we stopped and asked how to get to a specific route and were told we were headed in generally the right direction – phew.
The sun still shining and our smiles only slightly lopsided now with a few map-induced squabbles, we carried on, until we reached an unknown juncture.
Quick, pull out the Blackberry, that's bound to have the answers. No luck. Apparently, there's no service in the boonies of Quebec. Looking around at the cows in the fields and the trees swaying in the distance, there wasn't really anyone to ask for directions this time. Smiles officially gone.
And so we fiddled with the Garmin, dragging the map across the tiny 5” screen to try and see which direction was best to take, and see if we could find the road we were hoping to reach, while she continued to ask us to make left-hand turns to go back to where we started and take the highway. At that point, we'd almost wished we had.
Eventually, nearly four hours; much squabbling; a 20-minute construction zone stop; multiple pee breaks; a loss of satellite radio service (thorn in my side!); and a dragonfly attack later, we arrived at our first destination: A destination that would have taken us just under an hour had we listened to the Garmin from the beginning. And that was only the first leg of the journey...
Now, after GPS, we get lost and it's not OK. Technology is supposed to save us, but clearly it's not the end-all and be-all of making a drive in the country, or anywhere for that matter, flawless.
At least I got to work on my tan.
Last weekend, the husband and I spent a glorious Saturday traversing country roads through Quebec and Ontario visiting family in the 2012 Porsche Boxster S Black Edition I'd landed for the week. As soon as I brought the fancifully dressed two-seater home on the previous Monday, my husband was already planning the route and calling various family members to announce our visit that coming Saturday.
It was set to be a perfectly planned, flawless day.
After all, we'd just bought ourselves a state-of-the-art Garmin GPS system, plus the Porsche was equipped with its own onboard navigation system should the Garmin get confused, and my husband even emailed himself Google map directions that could easily be brought up on his Blackberry should there be a need.
That Saturday arrived and the weather was perfect: 9 a.m., clear blue skies, average temperature of about 23°C, a Tim Horton's coffee in each flimsy cupholder and the Garmin already squawking at us to turn right in 900 metres, and we were off to explore the unknown country roads with the wind in our hair and the sound of the Boxster S exhaust barking at our backs.
That lasted about 10 minutes, until the Garmin kept trying to direct us to a highway. One of our specifications for this adventure was: No major motorways. Side streets and twisty country roads only. The Garmin didn't seem to understand this and she was adamant that we head straight to the highway and save ourselves a few extra hours of travel time.
We continued to defy her, she continued to recalculate. Apparently there was a way to ask her to avoid all major highways, but as we'd just bought this state-of-the-art (and suddenly highly annoying) piece of equipment, neither of us knew how to make her shut up about the stupid highway. So we carried on... until we got lost.
Fortunately, my husband learned very early on, that stopping and asking for directions is in no way emasculating. And so, we stopped and asked how to get to a specific route and were told we were headed in generally the right direction – phew.
The sun still shining and our smiles only slightly lopsided now with a few map-induced squabbles, we carried on, until we reached an unknown juncture.
Quick, pull out the Blackberry, that's bound to have the answers. No luck. Apparently, there's no service in the boonies of Quebec. Looking around at the cows in the fields and the trees swaying in the distance, there wasn't really anyone to ask for directions this time. Smiles officially gone.
And so we fiddled with the Garmin, dragging the map across the tiny 5” screen to try and see which direction was best to take, and see if we could find the road we were hoping to reach, while she continued to ask us to make left-hand turns to go back to where we started and take the highway. At that point, we'd almost wished we had.
Eventually, nearly four hours; much squabbling; a 20-minute construction zone stop; multiple pee breaks; a loss of satellite radio service (thorn in my side!); and a dragonfly attack later, we arrived at our first destination: A destination that would have taken us just under an hour had we listened to the Garmin from the beginning. And that was only the first leg of the journey...
Now, after GPS, we get lost and it's not OK. Technology is supposed to save us, but clearly it's not the end-all and be-all of making a drive in the country, or anywhere for that matter, flawless.
At least I got to work on my tan.