Nver A Dull Moment!

Alternately titled, "Don't Trust TomTom!"


Phone rings the other evening. Good friend of mine says, "Hey! What are you doing tomorrow? I have to go pick up a pony for a lady- care to ride along?"

I check with Dear Husband (who is sick- but that is a whole 'nother story) and plans are set. I'm looking forward to the trip and getting away for an afternoon.

Friend shows up in the morning and we hit the road. As we prepare to turn (opposite from where I thought we were going,) I ask, "Hey- aren't we going to the middle part of the state? Like, umm.. west of here? That way?" (Pointing out the window to make sure I had things right.)

"Well, the GPS thingymabobber said turn left... so... let's just see where we end up."

Uh-oh.

Left we went. Got down the road a couple miles, and the voice in the box said, "Turn Left!" Left we did again. By this time I was giggling, because I was pretty sure I knew what the stupid box thingy was going to say.. and sure enough... a few miles down the road, we turned left again. Guess what--- we went umm.... 20 miles or so out of the way to go two miles from The Asylum.

We proceeded along... and next thing we know, the stupid box is telling us to take a left onto this other road. A dirt road. Not the smooth, paved road suitable for pulling a horse trailer on-- oh no. It was a DIRT road. Now, dirt roads are usually fine. I spent a lot of time on dirt roads in Tundra Country- it was pretty much all we had- dirt or gravel. But the roads up there were different. They were not SAND.

I peeped at the dash of my friends truck. Nope. Not four wheel drive.

Sand dirt road.

Least it had not poured much the night before, cause if it HAD we'd have been in BIG trouble.

Not sure what was coming next, the stupid box thingy pipes up and says, Bear Left!

I think it has a thing for LEFT.

Eventually, over and hour at what should have been a 45 minute part of the trip, we wound up back on the paved road and decided to stop and get something to eat. From there on out, the stupid box thingy gave decent directions- which I was extremely glad of as the sand roads where we were headed looked mighty bad.

We arrived at our destination safely, loaded the pony fine, and headed back this way to deliver her to her new home.

Well.

Ever have a stupid box thingy get pissed at you? I think we did. The damn thing kept INSISTING we turn RIGHT back onto the sand dirt roads. I said, "NO. We need to stay on PAVEMENT. NO. Dirt. Roads." As we passed the first turn the box told us to make, it got quiet. Then it said, "In one quarter mile, you WILL turn right onto XXX Road." In one quarter mile, we did not turn right onto XXX Road. The box pipes up and gets a 'Tude then, insisting we go back and take the damn right, which by then would have been a left.

I think we damaged the stupid box thingymabobber by screwing with it so much on the return trip. Which was fine by me. I did have to ask my friend though, how many times has the thingy gotten her lost? And did it often dump her in the woods like that?

At that point the stupid box piped up again and insisted we make another right onto a dirt road. When we did not comply, the snooty voice in the box said, "Fine. Continue straight. But don't bitch at me if you don't have any adventure in your life. It's your own fault."

I learned a few things yesterday.
One, I'm not going to purchase a TomTom navigational device.
Two, looking directions up on line is much easier.
Three, always carry a MAP when riding with this particular pal.
Four, I live in a very pretty but somewhat spooky looking area. I swear there were a few times I heard banjo music.

However, we survived. Delivered the pony to her new home and weather permitting I'll be popping out in about two hours to go trim the little mare.


Now, as we were on our way from dropping off the pony.... oi.

Friends cell phone rings and I see my home number pop up. It's Dear Husband!
I say, "Hey! What's shakin'?"

*coughcough* Lots of dirty words ensued, as it seems my fence charger was not working properly and The Kid (who is still here, as he thinks he now owns us,) decided that yes, the grass IS greener on the other side. And yes, he was pushing his way through the fence. Which upset Dear Husband greatly, as he was not allowed to be up and moving much. Which means fixing fence was a big no-no. Lucky for us, we were only a mile from The Asylum (take THAT TomTom!) and we were here in a jiffy. I fixed the fence and hauled butt to the supply store and got a new fence charger.

It did my heart good to see The Kid get zapped. Poor Phat Boy-- he was hanging way back, snorting at the fence. It seems that cleaning the grounding rod increased the charge as well, and he was telling me all about it. The Kid chose not to listen.

Sleep last night was pretty much out of the question, as worry over The Kid blasting through the fence kept me up hourly checking on the horses. They are tired today. Phat Boy flipped me The Bird at the last check, saying he was sick and tired of me flashing the damn light at him, disturbing his beauty rest. Poor poor Phat Boy.

Never.
A.
Dull.
Moment.

Ever.

But this is good- it keeps us guessing what will the morrow bring?