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| The road to our house |
Ireland is not a good country for a VW Tayron. Equipped with the latest risk-averse technology that Germany is famous for, the appropriately grey-coloured beast bleeped and pinged its way through the narrow country lanes, telling me that obstacles lay in our path.
BING! Beware,
an unkempt hedgerow!
I know, and
I can’t do anything about the décor, so just live with it.
PING! You
are approaching another vehicle!
That’s
right, because we’re coming up to a roundabout.
RING! (Music
goes much quieter) I’ve noticed you’re reversing and approaching an object. Are
you sure you want to proceed?
Yes, it’s a white
painted line in a huge car park. You’ll live, just keep reversing, and stop fading
out my playlist to tell me something I already know.
DINGALING!
Your left wheel is precariously over this road's central line!
Well done,
Sherlock. I’m taking a bend to the right on an empty country road.
I shouldn’t
have to justify myself to a mere vehicle, but these days, with their ability to speak to you, they take on a kind of
personality. In fact, the VW Tiguan we had the last time we came to Ireland is still
a living legend with the children – they called her Mrs Car and even now they compare
her to the one we have this time. Needless to say Mrs Car is more cherished
than the control freak we have this time.
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| Emptying the car on arrival |
