We recently got with the times and purchased a GPS for our car. No longer did we feel Google Maps could be relied upon particularly when our travels are often in remote areas. Wifi, say what?
I know nothing about our GPS. It’s Mr Vick’s baby. I couldn’t even key in an address to get us somewhere. Mostly that’s because I can’t be bothered knowing and now I have even more reason to dismiss it because Mr Vick has admitted that he finds the GPS’s voice sexy. He has a little GPS crush. Seriously. Weird a bit, I know. He informed me that her voice sounds a little bit like Lara Croft. Or in other words (albeit mine) that sex bomb, Angelina Jolie. I bet that’s who he visualises when she’s talking to him. Of course he follows her directions!
I somehow have taken to referring to the GPS like it is a “she”, a real person. She, I mean, it, has an identity. I even call the GPS, in a taunting sense, Lara Croft.
Does your GPS have a name? No. Didn’t think so. Does your husband have a crush on a computerised contraption? No, didn’t think so either. Although I hear Iphones are very popular with stealing husbands affections.
I’m not fond of her. Can you tell? I have some feelings that slightly resemble jealousy towards Lara. Seems ridiculous yeah? Well I can easily see Lara Croft becoming a dangerous 3rd party in our relationship.
Begrudgingly I say this, Lara Croft can be quite handy although she has can be completely daft too. I like those moments. I find some satisfaction knowing that Lara is actually a true blonde (no offense intended to any readers). The other day we wanted to travel to Marysville. She directed us to somewhere in Perth. ??? Yah. Dumb as. Such moments have made me second guess Lara Croft. I don’t trust her 100% which means sometimes I know better. I inform Mr Vick of an alternative route. I put up a convincing argument all the while Lara Croft is voicing her suggestions in her little annoying American tone. Turn left in 300 meters. Mr Vick has to choose – wifey or Lara Croft.
Wifey wins. We turn off Lara Croft. We travel along happily until the slow realisation occurs that we are gradually driving in the opposite direction to where we need to be. We pull over, turn around and turn Lara Croft back on. Mr Vick runs right back to her. Wifey defeated. That’s one to Lara.
Despite this, I have installed doubt in Mr Vick’s mind about Lara Crofts intellect. He too has started to question her in moments.
Wednesday for example. We were travelling home from our snowy holiday. We wanted to drive as mentioned to Marysville for lunch on our way home. Lara Croft suggested her route. Seemed logical albeit a bit boring. All clear spaces and highway action. We wanted some scenery, something off the beaten track, some food for the soul. Mr Vick over ruled Lara Croft and selected an alternative route. She again tried to convince us to go on the highway. We told her no. Back off Lara.
We set off on the alternative route and initially our drive was spectacular. The scenery around Lake Eildon and the surrounding National Parks is lovely eye candy. Bit breathtaking actually. We loved it. But the driving was very windy. As in bend after bend. We were weaving in and around mountains and their gullies continuously but we didn’t really mind. It was relaxing and the scenery pleasant. See?
Setting off with views of Lake Eildon along side us
Skip forward an hour and half and we were started to feel dizzy. The road was not just a little bit bendy but relentlessly so. We would travel a mere 20 meters and we’d be taking another corner. It was becoming increasingly more exhausting driving and nearly 2 hours in and we wern’t even half way to our lunch destination.
Then it started raining. Full pelt. The windscreen whippers were getting a flogging. There was fog threatening too. We could no longer see the scenery we so longed to enjoy. The very reason we decided to defy Lara Croft.
Then the kids started. Baby Vick was overdue for a feed and started squwarking but there wasn’t really many safe spots to pull over. We were on the side of a mountain after all and the curb of the road was a sheer drop off the edge of a whopping mountain. Little Vick was hungrey. Wineing. Repeating his request over and over and over. Then he needed to go to the toilet. That request was repeated over and over and over no matter how many times we said we’d stop when we found a safe spot. I tell ya there’s nothing more irritating to me than a winey kid on repeat. I was feeling increasingly dazed and my vision was becoming blurry. Intense cross country driving teamed with newborn Mummy fatigue is not good but I was too scared to stop and swap over as I knew Baby Vick would reek havock and demand a feed then and there but we had to get of the mountain first to be safe. The never bloody ending mountain. I tried to deal with my diminishing sanity and just kept driving.
The kids upped the anti with their discontent. I was getting increasingly ratty too. Mr Vick was ratty ‘cos I was getting ratty. But wasn’t it his fault for defying Lara Croft??? His mistress?
The drive seemed never ending. The bends kept coming and coming at us. Little Vick started complaining about feeling sick. Great time to discover we have a child who suffers car sickness. His wineing continued to new levels of annoyance. When he wasn’t complaining he was yelling in Baby Vicks face at a deafening pitch which woke him up every time just after he managed to drift back off and forget his starvation issues. I started to really dislike Mr Vick for making this call about the route.
The good news? We survived. True story that. After 2 hours (on a journey that could have taken us half that) we found clear, straight roads and Marysville appeared about half an hour later of which by then both kids were asleep. Naturally.
The lesson learn’t here: the GPS, no matter how sexy or irritating she might be, generally, actually, mostly, knows best! Lara Croft is here to stay!
Views from our very bendy road trip around Lake Eildon