Wichi Dude's posting of Helping Out elicited comments--each from within our family. My latest comment grew so long that I took pity on WD and Bogie by posting it here, in my own space.
Yes, Hunky Husband flew as navigator (and was offered a job doing it full time) on B-52s back in the 1960s and early 1970s. However, in a car, he doesn't have an MD-1 Astrotracker or any other of the goodies that he used on the airplane. Yes, you are correct that he uses his GPS. However, I doubt that he has ever lost a car in a parking lot. He is too organized to do that!
Younger Brother also worked with aircraft navigation systems; but, the one time that I asked him to fly along with me (delivering a Cessna 152), it didn't work out so well. The weather was marginal, I needed to sneak through a pass in the mountains in central California during marginal weather, the airplane was anything but "high performance" and it was not well-equipped for instrument flying (what it did have was not compatible with the navigation systems that were on the ground in that area). Since Younger Brother lived, and had been on flights in the area, I thought his familiarity with the pass would be a plus--and it was. We did get through the pass, at which he was quite helpful; but asking him to keep track of our ground track once we exited the pass was a lost cause. Again, he didn't have the equipment that he was accustomed to and didn't really know how to track us on a sectional chart.
Pardon me if the following tale has been posted somewhere, before. I believe that it has, but don't recall where. The worst I ever misplaced a car was at an LAX parking lot (Parking Lot C, for those familiar with LAX). I was working at Edwards AFB and had returned from spending the year-end holidays at home in Albuquerque. Arriving at the parking lot at about Midnight, I went to the place where I remembered having parked. Not only was my car not there, but the slot was marked as no-parking. I went to the security office and called the people who were in charge of towing to see if they had my car. Nope. After a while, a security guard offered to drive me around the (rather large) parking lot. Of course, we eventually found my little Mazda 626--right where I had left it.
Eventually, I recalled what had happened: I realized that the remembered slot was the first slot that I had chosen for parking. But, the first slot was not allowed parking and I had picked out a second slot in a nearby row. For some reason, I had decided not to park in the second slot (or maybe someone beat me to it). The car was parked in a third slot that was some distance from the first two--and I had failed to write down the location as I normally did. After a ten-day absence, it was easy for me to fail to recall the details. It was about 3:00 AM by the time I reached my apartment in Lancaster. Bummer!
Since that was when I was your age, WD, I suspect that age had nothing to do with it! (I'm just absent minded.)
November 25, 2005 at 09:45 AM