Within the last ten months I’ve had three interesting experiences with Sat-Nav users. Asked by a friend to help fetch a washing machine, he picked me up in his big French hatchback. After punching in the data off we went. Less than a kilometre from my house we were in trouble.
In spite of my protestations his Sat-Nav insisted we approach a bridge from the south, which we did. Unfortunately, at the junction duly marked, and with a strangled voice telling us to turn left, we had to decline. The bridge was 20 metres above the road we were on and because French cars don’t do steps we retraced ours.
Having used his Sat-Nav to travel halfway across Germany, another friend arrived at Utrecht by motorbike at 1400 hours. Red faced and indignant he turned up at my place one and a half hours later.
Finally, another friend used his to travel to a ski resort in Austria. It directed him to the border; the resort was but an hour away. Two hours later he phoned us. As he was unable to tell us where he was we were unable to tell him which way to go. Having bought a map, he turned up five hours later.
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