Published: 09/02/2010 13:18 -
Updated: 09/02/2010 13:26
DOES anyone besides me get lost whilst driving despite being in possession of half a brain and a whole Sat Nav?
My
friends will be the first to tell you I am not a confident driver. I do not try to hide it.
I don’t enjoy driving. I can’t park. If I got a flat I’d have to stand at the side of the rode wringing my
hands and looking helpless. (Sadly, I
would not be able to ring the AA – not because I am not a member – but because
my mobile phone is never charged.)
I get lost at
the drop of a hat. I’m the sort of
person who goes to the Westfield Shopping Mall for the day, and then takes so
long to find her car in the car park (those different levels are so confusing!)
that she can’t actually exit the lot because the time limit between paying for
the parking and exiting the parking lot has run out and the machine that lifts
that bar to let you out won’t work.
Add
to that I don’t do motorways, large
roundabouts or any lane other than the slow lane on busy dual carriageways.
So
WHY in the world did I take a job that has me driving hither and yon across the
length and breadth of southern Derbyshire?
I
was asking myself that very question as I drove from Ashbourne to
Swadlincote. Most people would not even
use their Sat Nav for such an insignificant journey.
Sure, they might consult a map.Ask their destination for parking
advice. Not me. Going to Swad required looking up where I was going, a phone call to
ask about parking, discussion of possible road conditions with husband, putting
the coordinates into the sat nav, checking the fuel levels and tyre pressure of
my little Micra... I may as well have been planning a trip to the Outer
Hebrides. old!) The mirror was
adjusted and my hands were firmly in the recommended 10:00 – 2:00 driving
position (yes, Mr Frost, I did listen to you during all those driving lessons
19 years ago!). The Sat Nav had a
recognised GPS signal, was operational, and all was going well.
Things
started out okay. I had my iPod plugged
in and playing relaxing tunes via a pink gizmo my daughter gave me which
operates through the car’s tape deck (that’s right, a tape deck.My car really is that old) Until I got to a very big roundabout.
A roundabout that was a heaving, living,
undulating, scary being. A roundabout
with so many exits that I could have sworn my Sat Nav said “At the next roundabout
take the 54 th exit, then, get in the right lane.
Cue the voice of Dervia Kirwan – the voice
over of Marks & Spencer food adverts: “This is not just ANY roundabout. THIS is the mother of ALL roundabouts!”
Well,
whatever, I got it wrong. I
panicked. I was in the wrong lane at the
wrong time. There was a diversion, traffic
cones were everywhere.
The next thing I
knew I was heading north for Nottingham. Swadlincote was a distant memory waving goodbye to me. “Bon voyage, Debbie!”
I
swear I could hear the Sat Nav sigh. A
little sigh of resignation. A sort of,
“Here we go again” sigh. The Sat Nav
went quiet. Contemplative, almost.
I think I must have driven another 10 miles
before the dulcet tones of Tomasina (I call my Sat Nav Tomasina) told me to
take the next exit, whilst she hurriedly planned another route for me, and
eventually, under serious duress, got me where I needed to go.
I
went to see Dave, the manager of the South Derbyshire Volunteer Centre.He made me a coffee, gave me a biscuit and
filled me in on all the amazing volunteering happening in his area in South
Derbyshire.
We put our heads together to
come up with ideas of how we could work together to expand volunteering
opportunities evenfurther.
Then
I remembered why I took this job.
Because
I love it.
