I learned that Sadie was Safe Automobile Driving Information Equipment and George insisted I join him when he drove to Alexandra to have the gizmo installed.
He told her and we took off.
"That’s Sadie," he explained. "She’s been loaded with my complete life story and I’m connected to her by this tiny transmitter inside my wrist watch."
Sadie was soon back on the air.
"George, you are still in the 50km speed zone, and your speed is 49. Please be careful."
And so, the journey continued, Sadie giving the odd warning about sharp corners and hidden exits. Then came excitement.
"George, the car behind you is a police car and you are being signalled to pull over. I can confirm that you have no alcohol in your system and that you have not exceeded the speed limit at any time on this journey."
The policeman was just doing a routine check. Noted that warrant of fitness and registration were OK, kicked a couple of tyres and waved us on.
"I have the constable’s number and career record if you should require it, George. We are 1km from Chatto Creek. There is an historic pub and post office. The pub menu is now on your screen. Please do not read while driving. Should you decide to have lunch remember that your bodyweight is 15% above that recommended by the medical profession. If you have a drink, then one pint of beer or two small wines should be your limit."
Of course, we stopped and had a pint and shared a bowl of chips.
"I’d been thinking of having a big feed," George complained, "but, well, you heard what Sadie said."
"We are approaching Omakau, George. A shop, cafe and garage. Your left rear tyre needs air and you must buy petrol here. You tank has just six litres left. You can continue towards Lauder but you may wish to take the turn off to the Ida Valley road. You will pass Blacks Hotel at Ophir but I’ve recorded alcohol still in your bloodstream so I suggest a soft drink if you stop there."
"Bit of a spoilsport your Sadie," I complained to George. "I always enjoy a beer at Ophir."
"All for your own good, Jim. What Sadie says, goes."
At Poolburn Sadie informed us: "You are approaching Poolburn School but as teachers are on strike today there may be no children about. Take care, all the same."
Sadie was quiet for a while along the fairly straight stretch of the Ida Valley road but near Oturehua she was back on the air.
"On the left you will see the Hayes Engineering Works site which is well worth a visit. I will read the brochure for you: ‘This historic site offers a fascinating insight into the life and legacy of Ernest Hayes. One of New Zealand’s original innovators, Ernest established his enterprise in 1895 and quickly became renowned for creating ingenious agricultural tools. There is a cafe named after his wife, Hannah’."
"Sounds good," said George.
As we drove in Sadie was back: "George, you have had no exercise on this trip. I suggest you do a 4km walk around the extensive grounds and avoid the cream cakes in the cafe."
Hayes was well worth visiting and on Sadie’s advice we also called in to Gilchrist’s store which was she told us was "the oldest continuous trading store in New Zealand of its type, dating back to 1902".
She added, "Across the road is the Railway Hotel but as today is Monday it does not open until 5pm and it is now 2.33pm. I estimate it would be safe to have your second and last drink of the journey at the Wedderburn Hotel which is open and about 20 minutes away."
I was amazed. "How does she know all this stuff, George"
"Oh, I suppose it’s the artificial intelligence business. She’s been loaded up with tonnes of information and, as we go along, she’ll be picking up the latest from some satellite. Clever, eh?"
By now you’ll have got the gist of Sadie. There are three cafes in Ranfurly and, of course, we went to the one she recommended.
Nearing home, she came up with: "You will soon reach Patearoa. One-time goldmining town and now home to a famous writer."
"She’s pretty good," I enthused.
"You should get one of these things, Jim."
"Actually, I already have one."
"Really. What’s it called?
"A backseat driver."
— Jim Sullivan is a Patearoa writer.
