Driving Miss Natalie, or My GPS Hates Me

You'd think I'd be on top of the driving thing by now, yes?

Apparently not.

For a start, the stop sign - particularly, that they are many, and that they are posted at varying heights, - is not my forte here. 

To be specific, my passengers have diplomatically and calmly pointed out incidences where I have happened to run one with gay abandon, albeit completely inadvertently *mortification and terror*. I have particular trouble when the stop sign comes on a T-junction where I am on the main (non-terminating) part of the road, and I have to stop for those who in Australia would have to give way to me. If they are at the junction before me, the first-come-best-served U.S. rule means THEY go first. Gads!! I really hope I don't get pulled over with this one any time soon.

So now I'm on Super Ninja Alert for Stop signs.

Moving on.

My driving schedule last week was pretty busy. I worked regularly at the NMFS labs, but on 3 days I drove up to the UCSC campus for meetings and seminars and on 2 days I drove to off-site meetings with Marc. Then there were the dinners (see "My week of noshing").

That's a lot of miles in my red baby (gas-guzzling, as it turns out) truck.

And in that time, my relationship with my GPS has soured.

I thought we'd moved past the suicide attempts and the ambiguous freeway entry directions, but no.

All good relationships are based on trust, and mine has been betrayed by my falsely glib and undauntedly cheerful GPS.

• It lies to me about arrival times. See that time at the bottom left? 5:45pm? That was my predicted home arrival time last night. Actual time of arrival: 6:12pm. It sneakily blows out the ETA as you progress, depending on your speed and the traffic. But sorry GPS, false promises do not a true friend make. If your satellites are that good, you should be predicting that traffic on 1 South is going to render your happy 10-minutes-to-home prediction a festering ball of Not True.

• Despite its inability to predict traffic conditions, my GPS ADORES the freeway. Its perchant for freeway-dominated navigation nearly made me late for a meeting with Marc last week, in spite of the fact that I'd allowed an hour to travel 10 miles. Traffic was bumper to bumper at 3pm and we were moving at an average speed of 8mph. You do the maths. So I exited the freeway. Twice. Yet my efforts to coerce the GPS into an alternative route that did not involve a traffic jam came to nothing, as the GPS gaily re-directed me back onto the freeway each and every time. Yes, I am aware SOME GPS systems allow you to choose the nature of the route (e.g. "Avoid Freeways"). My garden variety GPS does not.

Fortunately for me, I am now approaching the point where I know my way around well enough such that co-dependency will no longer be a factor in our relationship. Perhaps with a little counselling, my GPS and I can move forward to navigate uncharted routes in greater harmony.

On top of my current irreconcilable differences with my GPS, I am also apparently plagued by the on-campus parking amenity next to our lab building up at UCSC. It's official name is the Core West Parking Structure. To me, it's the Building of Doom:

A small summary of my battles to date with this complex:

• Limited number of metered spaces = stressful, especially when one arrives 10 minutes before a seminar starts.
• On one occasion there were NO metered spaces to be had in two drive-bys, so I had to resort to a handicapped space while I ran in and explained my lateness to Marc. He was more concerned about me parking illegally, and raced me over to get a day permit, explaining to the clerk, "I have a crisis!" Not my finest moment.
• On a less-urgent visit to campus for a seminar, there were yet again no metered spaces to be had. Two drive bys later I pulled the pin and went to the supermarket, where I instead did battle with a rogue cucumber.
• Yesterday things took a turn for the worse. I parked in a metered space, and paid the meter correctly, but got a $40 parking ticket because I didn't display my receipt on the dash. This resulted in a prolonged venture to deal with the matter, culminating in a pending official dispute. You could call it my brush with the (campus) law:

Yes, it is the UC Police Station, but it's OK; they were very nice to me. I'll keep you posted re: dispute resolution (or not).

I'm sincerely hoping for improved vehicular-related relationships for the remainder of the duration :-)

And you're right, that's not car keys in my hand in the picture at the top. It's Val's projector cable. But I make the same face when I pick up my car keys.