Classic tactile education
Forget the classroom, for a bit. Right now, I’m learning (a lot), and the process is entirely tactile. There’s a new “rig” in the yard, and since the suitcase of manuals only seems to bear passing similarity to all of the bells and whistles, the two proud adults are reduced to pushing buttons. As long as we don’t hear a loud siren, along with a canned voice announcing “total destruction in sixty seconds”, we are probably going to get along fine.
You see, the guy at the dealership was the first to admit that he knew nothing of consequence. His job was to take our money and watch us ride off into the proverbial sunset. That’s exactly what happened. Now, after two evenings of sitting in the dark, we’ve managed to reset the GPS. Maybe. Forget anything to do with fuel economy, as the software doesn’t reveal the units it wishes to receive as input. Will that be US Gallons, Imperial Gallons or Litres? Shrug my shoulders. How about distance; statute miles, kilometers or “just down past where the blue house used to be”. Again, shrug. We’ll figure it all out before attempting any serious road warrior exploits.
Speaking of which, should I be shopping for armour, or a light sabre? Asking for a friend. This time around, we’re far beyond our comfort zone of a pup tent and a tiny auto. Even the dog is calm, in the face of an unknown future. Maybe we won’t travel until we’re tired of waiting for inspiration, or the dissipation of the novelty. Will the neighbours talk? Sure.
