Lara Lets Me Down. Again

On Friday I used half an RDO to drive to Perth in the Silver Shadow.  I would rather have ridden the White Lady of course, but I was going to pick up a friend I had not yet met; Tim, introduced by Kate and Barbara.  Tim would be carrying luggage and did not have a helmet.   a car was necessary.

We set out about 2pm, and when Lara found I preferred to go through Woodanilling rather than following her suggested route  through Kojonup, she did not speak to me for a while.  That did not matter.  I know the way to Perth, and so I played the MP3 player through the radio instead. It was in Perth that she played up the most.  I turned her on to guide me through to Vincent St, West Perth.  Firstly she kept insisting I was speeding every time I exceeded 50 in a 60 or 70 K zone.  Then she tried to send me up one way roads the wrong way, and drove me around the block past my destination half a dozen times until I gave up and phoned Tim for help.  Turns out I was at the wrong end of the road.  And it was my fault, because I had told Lara the wrong street number.

At least I know about one-way streets.

She definitely needs a software upgrade.

As I arrived at last at Beattie Lodge, the rain  began.  And what rain it was.  Thunder, lightning and the heaviest downpour I have seen in such a long time.  The drive home was … interesting for the first few kilometres especially, trying to get out of the City through flash floods.   We stopped for food at  Carousel -not very impressive Asian food at Han’s.  But the rain had abated just a little by the time we finished.  We drove gingerly through the still  flooded streets until we got out of Armadale  but could not go too fast because the rain returned. Though not quite as heavy, it was still pretty impressive, and severely affected visibility.  Fortunately no one was driving foolishly that night that we encountered and the trip passed uneventfully apart from a pit stop and coffee break along the way.  Poor Tim, whom I had just met, got an earful of conversation.  All the way.  Three months of backlogged social interaction.

Poor bugger.

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About Alan

Alone in a sea of spinifex.
This entry was posted in Life, don't talk to me about life!. Bookmark the permalink.

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