Wednesday, January 8, 2014

The GPS War: Part 2

Adieu Montreal! Je t'aime!
How long has it been since I wrote about my trip to Montreal? Too long!

At long last here's the final entry in my jaunt to watch the Habs defeat the Pittsburgh Penguins, and our return trip back to a cold, frosty island. Apologies for the delay, but I wouldn't be me if I didn't get off track and then there were the holidays.

By the way if you missed the first part of the war between my brother and my psychotic British-voiced GPS I've dubbed Jeeves, you might want to check that out first.

We left the Bell Centre and while the car crawled through the traffic Jeeves and my brother started digging their trenches and sending off small volleys.

"Turn right in 300 metres."

"Oh the HELL," said my brother. "We came in across the Pont Champlain and that's the way we're going back."

The bickering about whether to turn right or keep going straight towards the bridge continued as we inched through the post-game traffic. In the back my mother was on edge, leaning forward to grip the back of my seat while offering up occasional sneers at the Montreal drivers or criticism of their driving techniques and apparent obvious lack thereof.

My brother kept going straight towards the Champlain Bridge, and Jeeves lost his mind. "TURN RIGHT NOW!"

We looked to the right where heavy construction had blocked off the street he wanted us to take. Then we hit the bridge and he calmed down, though he claimed to be "Re-routing" in an exceptionally pissy British accent.

Finally we were on the highway out of town, but we needed a pit stop to load up on caffeine and also take a potty break. Jeeves hissed and bitched that we turned from his designated route in order to do this, but we got thru Tim Horton's just fine, and with everything calmed down I dozed off until we neared the Quebec border when the decibel levels suddenly went through the roof.

Past Saint-Louis-du-Ha-Ha (how great is that name for a town - seriously) where the construction begins towards the New Brunswick border Jeeves got confused and mistook the bypasses as sudden manifestations of pasture land.

"Get back on the highway NOW!"

"We ARE on the highway you TWIT! I'm not a field!"

"Turn left 200 meters towards the highway! What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm on the highway!" My brother rounded on me. "This is YOUR fault for not updating the maps on this stupid GPS!"

On the rare occasions that Jeeves conceded that yes, we might actually be on the highway after all, he insisted on having us take the next off ramp. Only, there were no off ramps or they were closed off due to construction.

"I can take this off ramp," said my brother "if you want to try Grand Theft Auto V stunt jumping for real."

"Not in this car, thanks."

Finally at the New Brunswick border we encountered a blizzard. We've never actually made this trip without incurring a blizzard at the border and I'm not sure what the odds are for that but it's moot because I don't know of any bookies that will even take weather bets.

We breakfasted at a cousin's house, eventually made our way to Halifax, and the next day Mom and I headed straight to the Marine Atlantic ferry where we cooled our jets for 12 hours waiting to board. The weather always plays havoc with the schedule.

BTW - remember how we froze our tushes off and got signatures from Price and Boullion and Diaz for his hat? My brother was offered $500 for that hat and refused.

"It's not mine," he told the would-be buyer. "It's my son's."

Seriously though... next time we're all flying. And we're bringing Da Nephew.


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