The right way to go

Steve Kendall | Bendigo Weekly | 28-Oct-2011

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On an unfamiliar road, in an unfamiliar car, Steve finds the perfect travelling companion.

I AM travelling in England, and I have a secret to share. I have a new partner.
Come rain or shine, wind and hail, I have Pippa by my side.
Though I know the country quite well, Pippa knows every turn of the road. Each journey is a joy with Pippa in control.
I chat aimlessly in her direction, but she always answers with purpose.
She always knows best. In that area she is a lot like the long-suffering Mrs Kendall.
Knows all the answers, all the time.
Come to think of it, Mrs K knows her way about quite well, she seems to have an inbuilt GPS.
Pippa, of course, is the inbuilt GPS on my borrowed car.
I can hear you saying:”Oh, he’s in England now so he has called his GPS after the Pom with the great bum”.
As much as I would like to think Pippa Middleton is resting that famous tush of hers on the  passenger seat next to me, she’s not.
The GPS voice is actually called Pippa, but it does allow the mind to day-dream a bit, making a lonely drive seem a little
more pleasant.
She takes a bit of prodding and poking to get in the mood, but once up and running there is no way of getting lost.
I switched her to miles and feet rather than metres, it so suits her smooth tones.
Unusually for a female, she does not say much ... and what she does say is informative and to the point.
Pippa does not crave to go shopping, or ask for cups of tea, she just guides me on my way.
I had a problem with Pippa earlier this week; she went silent.
No more “turn right in 400 feet”.
I think she was sulking because I had ignored some of her earlier instructions.
I was actually right, but Pippa took umbrage and gave me the silent treatment.
Not a squeak.
She continued to produce a moving map, so all was not lost, but speak she would not.
A few prods and pokes of her buttons made no difference, she remained silent.
The only option left was a reboot, poor Pippa.
As in all things of this ilk, the GPS in her came good after the electric restart. Trouble was, by some quirk of software, she became Thomas the UK male.
That would not do. I had become quite attached to Pippa the UK female.
“Pippa” was handed over to my techie brother who found the right button and Pippa was back.
Oh, how we cruised around together, mile after mile, with her comforting directions.
Highways and small roads made no difference, there she was with the right way to go.
Unfortunately, Pippa seems not tobe aware of traffic jams and roadworks, and seems to take joy in flinging me into queues that are more than common on roads in the UK.
Mind you, I think she is quite new to the game, because every so often she gets confused and issues an impossible direction.
“Turn right, and immediate left” for instance, generally when driving under a highway overpass.
It’s as if she would rather be on the higher level heading free, rather than where I have asked her to go.
That would defeat the object I guess, but now I feel a little guilty, trapping Pippa in a little box in the car, nowhere to go but where I tell her.
Sunbaking or swimming for Pippa is not on the cards, not even a cup of tea.
I mustn’t feel too bad though.
The last thing you need in a GPS is a free spirit.

b.Entertained

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