NY200 - The Crap Nav is dead - long live the Crap Nav

Well the day has arrived.  London Alan has touched down in York on a glorious day.  The weather is set fair ‘cept for the thunderstorms forecast for Wednesday night - at the same time as we’re camping within a stones throw of Whitby Abbey - Dracula and all that.  Ooo-er!

It’s been a busy week prepping everything at home to make it just about presentable for a guest visit.  I’ve made sure all the baby tomato plants and fledgling vegetables are fully watered cos they’re gonna have to fend for themselves and get on with their young lives whilst I’m gone.  'I don’t like it!' I heard them muttering to themselves.  Sorry, no choice boys.  Daddy’s going away for a couple of days and with that I left them tucked up in a greenhouse full of warm moist tears; well, condensation on the glass really…  

I do tend to leave things to the last moment.  I know where everything is and it’s just a matter of getting the crap together and job done innit?  Yep everything was snicking into place and nicely on the bike.  Breakfast was bacon and egg sarnies,  mmmm, and there’s just short of 2 hours before it’s time to depart.  

2 jobs left to do. Firstly load the GPX files onto the crap nav and finally, finalise the new kitchen contract and then we’re off!

I sit the crap nav in it’s high chair and place a bowl of spaghetti flavoured GPX files in front of it. ‘NO!' is says with an angry look on its LCD face.  'C’mon now, be a good boy for daddy.  He’s in a rush so c’mon, eat yer s'gettii, mmmm, nom, nom, nom….’, I found myself muttering as I messed around with it's USB lead…

'NO!  I DON’T LIKE IT!’, moaned the little fecker at which point with a huge sweep of its hand it smacked the bowl of tomato sauce flavoured GPX files and threw them on the floor.   ‘WAAUUGGHHH!’

Oh, you little bastard... I muttered to myself.  'C’mon now, daddy is gonna be late for work!  Eat them all up, NOW!'  

But no, the little fecker was having none of it.  It did not matter which way I cut it, I might get just one tomato sauce flavoured GPX file into its tight shut mouth scraping its chin with the end of the usb lead, and just as I looked down to reach for the next GPX spoonful it promptly regurgitated the first all down my nice clean cycling vest.  

And so the game continued.  Feck, look at the time, Wayne!  Sorry London Alan, the little fecker is been a naughty boy today.  But like a trip to the shops there was no option as I had to take him with me.  Grrrr…

Hmmm, he’s got a factory reset button... Didn’t know that kids had them fitted nowadays.  So hey, I’m getting desperate and I have to get a move on so it’s my only option.  

There's 30 seconds of silence… then all of a sudden there’s a loud URP! followed by a lot of tomatoey sick and a loud scream.  The teddy, which had been sat in the corner snorting to itself and guffawing at the antics was suddenly grabbed by the ankles and launched out of the pram.  Sadly, the whole contents of the crap nav's brain had become entangled in its fur and so was unceremoniously ripped from its hard plastic shell as it was ejected across the room.  

With a sudden wide eyed and shocked look on its face and a low moan the crap nav slumped forward and plopped face down into the cold mix of tomato sauce files…. dead…

Game over.  As hard as I tried I could not resuscitate it.  I’m running very very late now.  London Alan is stood by his bike on the starting line at the front of the house waiting for me to catch up.  So the review of the kitchen contract and payment of the not insubstantial second payment will have to wait until I get back home.  Feck!

Of course the net result of this is I have no sat nav.  All I can use him for now is as a brick shaped paperweight and to only show the speed and distance travelled and calories used etc.  No routing.  No maps.  Nada.  There’s just a blank screen with a squirrelly line which might show where I’ve just ridden if there was any map detail at all.  But there isn’t.  Blank.  Brain dead.  It might’ve jettisoned the contents of its brain but it’s not quite lost the ability to sit in the corner of the room mumbling to itself playing with lego whilst I’m stood with crossed arms in the doorway thinking what did I ever do to deserve him.  

We set off with the kid in tow because I can’t leave him at home can I?  I might be able to get him fixed might I?  So of course the right hand turn to take us on the flat route to Market Weighton was missed.  Net result, we land having taken the long way around into Pocklington and so are back into the hills.  Feck.  The rest of the ride was all about guess work / testing a failing memory and using a combination of OS Maps on line and Google to wobble our way on the worst ever unplanned route to Hornsea.

53 miles today.  I can wing it all the way up to Whitby as I have ridden the route before.  But I’m pretty worried about the ride across the North York Moors.  Dracula and Werewolf country and all that.  I have some trepidation…

Anyway as the saying goes... I stare with anger and frustration at my brainless boy and proclaim..., ‘you're no son of mine.  When I get home I’m gonna smack yer momma in the mouth!’…

Fecking CRAP NAV!

Ciao for now. 

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