In the USA 2016 travel blog

Leaving San Fran across the Golden Gate Bridge

The sign on the suburban street telling us the GPS was wrong

We had drive about 8,300 kilometres!

It was quite a drive from San Fran to LA. As per the previous post, we broke up the long drive with a night in a place in the middle of nowhere called Coalinga.

On the way into LA the next day, we decided to visit the Getty Center. It seems that Ms Garmin had her wires crossed on the address. As did her cousins. It appears that anyone following their GPS was going to be led astray.

We went round and around into smaller and smaller streets until we got to one that had a sign on it saying “your GPS is WRONG!” and giving another address to plug in. That one kinda worked – but took us to the wrong side of the road.

Not to worry, we eventually found our way in and had the quickest run through the gallery in history. It was pretty good. A shame we had to rush.

The reason we had to rush was because we had to return our rental car by 4.00pm that day. So that meant we had to find our LA airport accommodation, drop off our bags and then find the car rental return place.

Ms Garmin behaved herself and got us to the accommodation just fine. However, we encountered the most useless cow at reception that anyone can imagine.

Could she tell us where the car rental agencies were? No.

The hotel has an airport shuttle – could she tell us how to arrange for the shuttle to pick us up from the car rental agency? No.

Could she give us a room that wasn’t the other side and a million miles away from reception? No.

When we got to the room to find one bed instead of two, and I rang her to advise her of the error, did she just simply allocate another room? No. She said I had to “prove” that I had booked 2 beds. So, we had to drag our bags all the way back fifty thousand miles where I showed her the hotel confirmation for a room with two beds. Did she provide an apology? No.

New room got allocated. Do you think either of our keys worked? No. And of course, the new room was as far as the first room.

By now it was twenty to 4.30. So… pretty stressed and p’eed off.

We ran out and there was a shuttle man standing outside our hotel. Tamara asked him if we could arrange a pick up from the rental agency. Yes! He gave us his card – did the rude lady do that? No.

Then Tamara pulled a swifty manoeuvrer into the petrol station next door (meaning that she drove on the wrong side of the road for a nano-second). Quick fill up of petrol. The man at the petrol station advised her of where the rental returns were. Being in a ridiculous hurry, we took off.

We thought we were going ok and then we worked out we weren’t. Around the departures and arrivals we went. HEY! I had the address for the rental return place in the documentation! But wait. Ms Garmin decided to finally spit the dummy. She wouldn’t turn on!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAARRRGGGHHHHHHH.

But wait, there’s more.

As we are stuck in the arrivals or departures traffic, a man is in another car is trying to get our attention. What? “Your petrol tank is open”. What the heck? Yep, not only is the little door open, but the petrol cap is dingly-dangling beside the car. Pull over! I hop out and shut it.

I try one last time to re-boot Ms Garmin. And YES! She works. Plug in the address. Tamara cuts across however many lanes are required and we are on the way.

We got there just before 4.00.

Talk about stressville.

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