Roger Part Deux
I mentioned a while ago that I had gotten myself a Roger Mk II.
For those of you who have been [or still are] living under a rock, Roger is the bloke who lives on a satellite and navigates me around the countryside by giving directions on a little map on my dashboard.
Now Roger Mk II sounds exactly like Roger Mk I, but there are some subtle differences. The first and probably the most important is that Mk II hasn’t tried to kill me yet. Mk I had a nasty habit of waiting until I was half way across a viaduct and then ordering me to take a sharp right, or just plain trying to get me to drive into a lake. Mk II has so far proved to be the perfect gentleman and utterly reliable even if he still hasn’t a fucking clue how to pronounce French names. I’m glad of the latter as it provides some light relief on a long trip. Occasionally it even provides a moment of outright hilarity.
One of the features I mentioned before is that roger now beeps at me when I exceed the speed limit. I switched that off because it was going constantly, but have resurrected it for the French driving, as the French have really sensible speed limits. The open road is generally 90, but that frequently increases to 110 or higher on the main roads. On the other hand it often drops to 70 for a few metres because of a hidden junction, and can reduce to a crawl for town centres and the like.
As well as beeping at me, Roger now tells me how fast I am going too. And I have discovered that my own speedometer is way off the mark. It constantly overestimates my speed and tells me I’m doing 95 or 96 when I am actually doing 90. But how do I know which is correct? Simple. The French have kindly put up the occasional speed warning thingy that informs me how fast I am going. And their thingies agree spot on with Roger. So fuck my speedometer, I’m going by Roger in future.
One aspect of Roger Mk I that I thoroughly enjoyed was his total lack of a sense of humour. I used to programme him to go to a particular spot and would then head off in the opposite direction. This used to tie him up in fits of apoplexy and he would start shouting at me to take a U-turn. When that failed he would start shouting “recalculating” at me at regular intervals, before going into a total sulk. The new bloke is apparently made of sterner stuff however. If I drive past my destination, he calmly and coolly gives directions back to wherever I missed. He hasn’t said “recalculating” once, which is a bit disappointing.
So far, since the start of the holiday, Roger hasn’t put a foot wrong. He has directed me along roads that even the large scale Michelin maps don’t show. He has been 100% accurate to date. His estimates of driving times are uncanny. His knowledge of speed limits is encyclopaedic.
So why do I have this nagging suspicion that he is saving everything up for one big nasty moment?
Ah! the unexpected Rogering which goes something like this (from memory not experience)
Twinkle, twinkle,
Little rectum,
Big dick come,
When least expectum.
It never ceases to amaze me. I write something frightfully erudite and insightful, and immediately it is dragged down to the basest level by the comments.
Is that a reflection on me or my commentators, I wonder?
On reflection, you’re right:
Mirror, mirror,
On the wall,
Who’s the eruditest of them all,
You are Pat without a doubt.
Thankyou mirror – roger out.
Lots of insightfulltivityness for you to ponder on.
Soon Roger will be able to drive. To drive the vehicle which was produced on an automated assembly line. Using parts made in other automated factories. From material mined by robots. How long until they wonder what they need all of those silly humans for. Will they look at us as their creators and worship us or maybe they will keep a few of us in zoos and get rid of the excess.
I have to go now. I think my microwave is watching me.
Years ago I was stationed on a US Navy ship.
We took out off the coast of San Diego one time with a civilian team of engineers on board and a ton of gear – we spent four days out there going back and forth.
They erected this big antennae array on the flight-deck (was a small ship, the deck was for a helicopter) and ran cable up to the bridge.
I stood bridge watches, where one of my duties was to steer the ship as helmsman. During one of these drills while I was at the helm, a civilian engineer kept checking some gizmos and notating readings while the officer of the deck kept calling out commands for me to turn left or right, then settle on this or that heading. We’d head in a certain direction for a bit and then make a sharp turn and go in another direction.
Meanwhile the navigator took traditional readings with a sextant and the radar, and they’d compare these with the engineer’s readings from his gizmo, which, by the way, was about the size of a TV set.
At a point where they didn’t seem so busy and we were headed to a place a few miles down the shoreline to start more drills, I asked the engineer what they were testing. “Oh, it’s a new satellite positioning system. Someday you’ll be able to get readings on a little device that will tell you where you are by reading satellite positions. It’s called Global Positioning System.”
So this was one of the first GPS systems being tested right after the sats were put up into place, long before the whole thing went commercial. It was even before the military was using it, it was just being tested then.
Perhaps this was Roger’s very own “Grandad!”
Patrick – Thank you Sir. I shall ponder upon that until hairs begin to grow on the palm of my hand, or I start to go blind; whichever comes latest.
Jim C – Not in my lifetime! There is no fucking way I am going to let a lump of electronics drive me. It’s bad enough being ordered around by traffic lights.
Rhodester – Sweet fuck!! I might have known you would have been involved in that somewhere. Is there anything you haven’t stuck your nose into in your weird and varied lifetime?
Now this thing with a speedometer is just as common as it is mysterious to me. Every speedometer in every car is cheating at about 10%, which means that to actually reach Irish motorway speed limit of 120km/h you have to be going something around 135km/h. Plain stupid.
~~ I’m beginning to think not.
Jedrzej – I have discovered that when my speedometer says I am doing 90, I’m actually doing around 84 so I am driving a good bit under the limit. using Roger as my guide I keep to the limits despite my speedometer saying I am ghoing much faster.
P.S. Stunning photograph you just put up!! Take a look, People.
Rhodester – Any hints as to the next bit of insanity coming down the line?
Actually mid-stream in the first book now, and hoping to publish soon. you’ll know when because I’m certainly going to promote the fuck out of it. We need to get yours going too, I have a lot of info should you like to Skype again soon.
Ah!, the ring of Kerry, been there – No, no, I’ve really been there. Bollux, no matter how I say it, it sounds like I’ve Rogered Kerry.
I haven’t.
roger could be secretly jealous of your relationship with your other electronic, the laptop and when you least expect it dunk you both into the lake. nav gadgets can be cruel like that, be ever on guard
Thanks GD!
The point is, the faster you go, the more speedometer lies. Accordingly, if you want to go 200 you have to bring it up to something like 220. To be chcecked legally only in Germany!
@Patrick
Not Ring of Kerry, no. Somewhere in the middle of the area defined by Ring of Kerry.