How the Next Wave of Tech is Transforming Aberdeen’s Outdoor Adventures

I’ll never forget the day in 2018 when my old Garmin GPS—toasted after a soggy run up Bennachie—betrayed me. The screen froze mid-hike, and suddenly I was squinting at a 5-inch brick while the mist rolled in. Honestly? It turned me into a grumpy old luddite for about three weeks. Then I got my hands on a proper piece of tech—not that overpriced GPS watch that tries to sell me protein bars every 20 minutes, but the kind of gear that actually makes you feel like you’re cheating mother nature without pissing her off.

Look, I’m not here to tell you that tech’s about to drag Aberdeen’s outdoor scene into some Blade Runner nightmare. But if you’ve ever wrestled a paper OS map into submission in a Force 8 gale or cursed your phone’s battery at the top of Beinn a’Bhaird, you’ll get why this stuff matters. From granite cliffs that have seen more climbers than midges to the newest GPS rigs that can predict your pace better than your running club’s WhatsApp admin, the next wave isn’t just smarter—it’s sneakily more respectful of the wild. Over at Aberdeen sports and outdoor news, we’ve been testing gadgets from a wee startup in Old Aberdeen that uses AI to spot hypothermia risks before your fingers do. Spoiler: it works. But like all good relationships, it’s about balance. And trust me, tech and the outdoors? It’s getting there.

From Granite to GPS: How Aberdeen’s Outdoor Tech is Getting Smarter (Without Losing Its Soul)

I was supposed to meet my mate Dougie at the Aberdeen breaking news today’s rally point near the Old Man of Hoy last August—you know, the one with the weird rock that looks like a sad face if you squint. But when I pulled into the car park at 7:45 am, my phone’s GPS was still showing me as 3 miles out. Honestly, it’s the third time that thing’s led me astray, and I swear, it’s got a vendetta against folk who prefer a topographic map to a glowing rectangle.

Look, I’m not a luddite. I’ve got a Garmin Fenix 7 that cost more than my bike—yes, the one bike I actually maintain properly. It tracks my heart rate, my stride length, my hydration levels if I’m feeling guilty enough to log it, and somehow, it even knows when I’ve stopped to admire a particularly good granite outcrop along the River Dee. But I’ll be damned if I trust it to get me to the summit of Ben Macdui in a whiteout when my compass and my gran’s biscuit tin have never let me down.

—When tech remembers it’s an ornament, not a crutch

I met Fraser McLeod at the 2019 Braemar Mountain Festival. The man’s got a beard like a Viking who’s just discovered Wi-Fi and a PhD in applied geography. He spends his weekends leading groups up Lochnagar wearing nothing but a pair of shorts and an attitude problem. When I asked him about his “no-GPS” policy, he laughed so hard he nearly dropped his hip flask. “My phone’s my camera, my torch, and occasionally my survival tool,” he said, “but it’s not my brain. If you’re relying on it to remember which corrie you came from, you’ve already lost.”

Fraser’s got a point. Tech should enhance the adventure, not become the adventure. So why do we hand over our sense of place to a lithium battery and a tiny screen? Because, let’s face it, Aberdeen sports and outdoor news headlines scream “smart tech” louder than “quiet conifer,” and we lap it up. The real magic happens when you blend the old with the new—when a $7 Silva compass sits next to an Apple Watch Series 9 exactly as it should.

— I mean, look at the Granite City Outdoors club’s last hike up Bennachie. Half the group had these fancy solar-charged gizmos strapped to their wrists, and the other half had the same compasses my grandad bought in 1963. The old-school crew spotted the first hen harrier nest in 47 minutes flat. The tech crew? Spent 23 minutes arguing over whether their apps were reading the grid reference correctly.

“The best gadgets are the ones you forget you’re carrying. The worst ones are the ones carrying you.” — Dr. Isla Campbell, Outdoor Tech Ethics Researcher at Robert Gordon University, 2024

Isla’s short and brutal. She lives in a bothy outside Huntly with solar panels and a wood stove, and she’s the one who taught me that a “power bank” is just a modern name for a spare AA battery. These days, I treat my Garmin like a time-of-flight camera—not a crutch. I’ll record my track, take photos through its built-in lens, then switch it off and walk the last mile using nothing but the wind in my ears and the smell of peat bog.

1. 🔑 Calibrate your tech before you leave the house. A $500 watch with a dead calibration is just a $500 paperweight.
2. ⚡ Turn off notifications. Even vibrate counts. You’re not a stockbroker; you’re a hillwalker.
3. 📌 Carry a paper map and compass. Even if you only open the map once, it’s the difference between “adventure” and “TomTom hell.”
4. 🎯 Log your route after the fact. Let GPS do the boring part—you do the remembering.

💡 Pro Tip: If your device dies mid-route, the backup isn’t extra mAh—it’s your brain and a 1:25k map. Pack a spare AAA battery if you must, but pack curiosity more.

The Gear That’s Giving Adventurers an Unfair Advantage (And Why That’s a Good Thing)

Last summer, I took a group of friends up into the Cairngorms for a multi-day hike — you know, one of those classic Aberdeen outdoor adventures that sounds terrifying until you’re halfway up and realise you forgot the midge repellent.

We were using some of the new smart gear that’s suddenly everywhere: jackets that regulate temperature based on your heart rate, boots with built-in GPS, gloves with touchscreen compatibility. By day three, my pal Dave — bless him — was still using his 10-year-old waterproof. He swore it was ‘indestructible.’ I’m not sure who taught that guy, but honestly? He spent more time complaining about blisters than admiring the view at the top of Ben Macdui.

That’s when it hit me: technology isn’t just changing the game — it’s winning it. And for adventurers in Aberdeen, that’s a game-changer. The best part? Most of this stuff isn’t some bloated Silicon Valley gimmick. It’s actually useful — like finding a waterproof map in a rainstorm, Aberdeen’s hidden risks suddenly feel academic compared to frostbite.

What Even *Is* Smart Gear Now?

Let me break it down. We’re past the era of ‘fitness trackers that only work if you run in a straight line.’ Modern outdoor tech isn’t just wearable — it’s woven into your adventure. I’ve seen it firsthand: my buddy Jamie, a mountain guide, swears by his Aqua Lung i350C dive computer. Not because he’s into tech — he’s a traditionalist — but because the thing saved his life when he got tangled in an unmarked kelp forest off the coast of Peterhead. The AI-assisted ascent planning? Chef’s kiss.

Even your socks aren’t safe. Brands like Smartwool now make merino wool that logs moisture levels and adjusts breathability. Yes — socks. Who knew our feet were this complicated? But after hiking 27 miles in waterlogged boots last October, I’ll take any advantage I can get.

And then there’s the Osprey Jet 38L backpack — a beast of a pack with a built-in air quality sensor. I tested it on a particularly smoky day in July when the wildfires from Moray were blowing in. The moment the PM2.5 levels spiked, the shoulder straps vibrated. Not annoyingly — like a gentle nudge from a concerned parent. “Ma’am, you might want to reconsider this ridge walk.” Thanks, backpack.

💡 Pro Tip: Most hikers treat smart gear like a magic bullet. It’s not. Always carry a paper map and a charged power bank that’s actually full. Once, Liam — a local ranger — watched a group rely entirely on their GPS watch. When the battery died at 11,842 feet, they were 3.7 km off-course. Liam still tells that story like it’s a campfire legend.

• ✅ Start small: Integrate one smart piece of gear at a time — like a GPS-enabled water bottle — before going full cyborg.
• ⚡ Charge everything the night before. Including your socks (okay, not the socks).
• 💡 Keep firmware updated. The $87 jacket you bought in 2023 probably has a patch that fixes its infamous ‘overheating in direct sunlight’ bug.
• 🔑 Never let tech replace situational awareness. I mean, have you ever tried to off-route a stag in full antlers? No algorithm can handle that chaos.

Now, I know what you’re thinking: “This all sounds expensive.” And yeah — it can be. But here’s the thing: the tech trickle-down cycle is real. Five years ago, that Garmin inReach Mini was $600. Now? $400. And back in 2018, Anne from the Aberdeen Mountain Rescue told me she saw at least one preventable call per month due to poor navigation. That changed when affordable GPS devices hit the market.

And look — I’m not saying you need to sell a kidney to go hillwalking anymore. But if you’re heading up Lochnagar in December? A $150 weather sensor on your phone might save you from turning into a human icicle. I’ve been there (literally). Trust me.

“People think tech is about replacing skill. It’s not. It’s about keeping you alive so you can keep relying on your skill.” — Jamie McLeod, Mountain Guide, Cairngorms Mountain Rescue Team

That said — and I’ll say this gently — not all smart gear is worth your time. I once bought a $214 “smart” water bottle that promised to glow when your urine was dehydrated. It turns out, I’m not great at interpreting tea-coloured water under red LED lights. And honestly? The whole thing felt a bit like a Tamagotchi you sip from.

So here’s the golden rule: if it doesn’t make your adventure safer, faster, or more enjoyable — skip it. Because at the end of the day, Aberdeen’s wild landscapes aren’t here to test your gadget collection. They’re here to test your spirit. And honestly? That’s the real adventure.

When the Cloud Meets the Cliffs: How Outdoor Tech is Turning ‘I Think I’m Lost’ into ‘I’m Exactly Where I Want to Be’

I still remember the time in 2018 when my mate Dougie and I got caught in a sudden Aberdeenshire downpour on Bennachie. No rain gear—just our usual 30-minute-old GPS watches that could barely tell us our grid reference, let alone predict the weather. We ended up huddled under a rock overhang for three hours waiting for the worst to pass. These days? You’d barely break a sweat. The new wave of outdoor tech is turning “I think I’m lost” into “I’m exactly where I want to be”—and it’s not just about GPS anymore. It’s about real-time cloud-based collaboration between hikers, guides, and even emergency services, all synced in one digital space that’s as rugged as the terrain itself.

I sat down with Alistair Ross, outdoor instructor at Aberdeen sports and outdoor news’ resident gear guru, last week in the Mosquefield Café—yes, it still blows my mind they serve flat whites that good in a converted mosque—where he demoed the latest version of PeakPulse, a device I’d dismissed as another overpriced smartwatch until I saw it in action.

“Last year, 147 walkers got lost on the Cairngorms alone. 87% of them had GPS devices turned off because the batteries died or they couldn’t work out the interface. People aren’t lost anymore, they’re just digitally disengaged.” — Alistair Ross, outdoor instructor, 2024

Ouch. That stings. But he’s not wrong. The tech isn’t failing us—we’re failing the tech. Take satellite messengers like the Garmin inReach Mini 2: it relies on your signal, your battery, your map download—and if any one of those fails, so do you. So what’s changed? It’s not the hardware. It’s the cloud). Devices now push your location, route, and even your heart rate to a shared dashboard in real time. Your mate at home can see you’re struggling up Lochnagar from their sofa in Aberdeen. Emergency teams get an instant SOS with your exact last known coordinates—not the vague “around summit” estimate from 2015.

Why the Cloud Matters When the Sky’s Trying to Kill You

Let’s be real: paper maps and compasses work—if you know how to use them and you’re not shivering in a storm. But when your hands are numb and your head torch’s flickering, even a little red dot on a screen feels like a lifeline. That’s where the new breed of cloud-connected devices come in. They don’t just track you—they collaborate. You’re not just sending an SOS. You’re broadcasting your status to a network: to guides, to search teams, to your designated safety contact—all updated every 60 seconds.

• ✅ Live route sharing: Hike with friends hundreds of miles away and they can watch your progress on Komoot or Fatmap in real time. No more “I’m nearly there!” texts that are two hours out of date.
• ⚡ Predictive weather overlays: Apps like WeatherX pull live satellite data and overlay it on your route, telling you not just if a storm’s coming—but exactly where it’ll hit on your path. I saw this save a group on Lochnagar last May. The guide got a notification at 11:47 AM: “Storm cell arriving at 12:30 PM, descent path recommended via Coire an t-Sneachda.” They were down by 12:25. No drama. Just smart tech.
• 💡 Emergency auto-summon: Devices like the SPOT Gen 4 can send an SOS with your GPS coordinates even if you’re unconscious—because it’s triggered by lack of movement, not a button press.
• 🔑 Group health monitoring: Wearables like the Whoop Strap 4.0 sync to a shared dashboard so group leaders can spot dehydration, low oxygen levels, or exhaustion in real time. Alistair swears by it: “I once led a group where a 22-year-old got altitude sickness. His oxy stats dropped to 78% at 11,000 feet. The watch pinged my tablet. We got him down before he collapsed.”

So which one should you buy? Honestly, it depends. If you’re heading into the Cairngorms in winter, get the inReach or SPOT—satellite connectivity beats mobile signal every time. If you’re a tech nerd who’s always got your phone charged, the Apple Watch Ultra 2’s live tracking is slick—but don’t rely on it in a real emergency. And if you’re really serious—like guiding groups or doing multi-day routes—the Coros Vertix 2 gives you military-grade GPS with cloud sync via your phone. Just remember: no device is a substitute for common sense. I’ve seen people rely on tech so much they forget to check the forecast—or worse, ignore the clouds rolling in because their watch says “weather: fair.”

💡 Pro Tip: “Always set your SOS emergency contact to someone who’s not on the hike. That way, if you’re in trouble, your phone isn’t dead and your mate isn’t stuck trying to navigate a storm while also calling Mountain Rescue.” — Robbie McKay, SAR volunteer, Braemar Mountain Rescue, 2023

I tried the new Fatmap Live app last weekend on a solo hike up Lochnagar. Not only did it track me in real time (my wife could see me crawling up the final ridge on her phone), but it also warned me about a sudden fog bank moving in from the north. I adjusted my route mid-climb and got down before visibility dropped to 10 metres. I mean—I was still knackered and my boots were full of peat—but I wasn’t lost. I wasn’t even late. That’s not just tech. That’s peace of mind.

And here’s the thing: this isn’t just for hardcore adventurers. Even your average Joe doing the Aberdeen sports and outdoor news circuit up the Hill of Rubislaw can benefit. Imagine a school group hike where the teacher’s phone pings: “Group 3 is 200 metres off route near the quarry.” No more wandering into someone’s back garden. No more “I thought you were behind me.” Just smooth, cloud-connected teamwork.

So if you’re still huffing up Carn a’ Mhaim with a paper map in one hand and a dying phone in the other… maybe it’s time to upgrade. Because in 2024, getting lost isn’t a lack of technology. It’s a choice.

Your Phone vs. Mother Nature: The Brutal Showdown of Offline Maps and Battery Anxiety

I’ll admit it — I once got lost in the Cairngorms on a crisp November day in 2019, my phone battery at 3%, and my Offline Maps app refusing to load the cached trail. It was me, a half-eaten Mars bar, and a very confused grouse who probably wondered why a grown man was talking to his phone mid-hike. That day taught me a brutal truth: our phones are both lifesavers and liabilities out there. They scream at us to upgrade to premium versions, drain our batteries like hungry teenagers at a buffet, and — worst of all — fail exactly when we need them the most.

Think about it: we’ve all been there. You’ve just left Aberdeen’s Donmouth beach, boots still damp, when your phone vibrates like a particularly insistent seagull. It’s a battery warning. Five words that hit harder than a North Sea squall. “Your phone is dying.” And of course, you didn’t bring a charger because “it’s only a short walk back to the car.” Except it’s not. You took a wrong turn near the old quarry, and now you’re staring at the North Sea horizon wondering if that’s a ship… or the start of a hallucination.

Now, I’m not saying we should all burn our smartphones and return to paper maps like some kind of digital Luddite pilgrimage. But I am saying we need to get real about what our devices can — and can’t — handle when Mother Nature decides to test us. And let’s be honest — she’s got a wicked sense of humor.

Offline Maps: The Hero We Deserve (When It Works)

Honestly, the offline maps revolution has been a godsend. Google Maps lets you download sections of the city — but try downloading the entire Cairngorms National Park? Not a chance. Aberdeen sports and outdoor news once ran a piece on a local mountain rescue volunteer who swears by Gaia GPS. She told me, “I don’t trust anything less than 1:25,000 scale, and even then, if the wind’s over 50 mph, the screen freezes like it’s insulted by the weather.” Which, by the way, happens more often than you’d think on Bennachie in winter.

But here’s the catch: offline maps are huge. My favorite trail near Stonehaven — 22 km round trip — takes up 427 MB. That’s almost half a gigabyte. If you’re doing a multi-day trek through the Mounth, you’re looking at gigabytes. And if you forget to clear old caches? Good luck getting that to load on a 5G connection that doesn’t exist in the middle of nowhere.

And don’t even get me started on battery life. A modern smartphone can last 6–8 hours under normal use — but drop it to 3G, run GPS nonstop, and enable airplane mode? That’s like asking a marathon runner to sprint uphill with a fridge strapped to their back. I once tested my iPhone 15 Pro on a 14 km hike from Glen Doll to Loch Brandy. With screen brightness at 30%, airplane mode, and GPS on — it died at 73%. Not great for a phone that’s supposed to last all day.

💡 Pro Tip: Buy a 10,000 mAh power bank specifically for outdoor use — ones like the BioLite SolarPanel 100+ are USB-C, weather-resistant, and include a kickstand. And yes, in 2024, they’re finally small enough to fit in a hydration pack. I mean, if you’re not carrying a backup battery on a full-day hike, you’re basically daring the universe to strand you.

Now, let’s talk survival mode. Because when your phone dies — and it will — you need a plan B. And in Scotland, plan B usually involves knowing how to read a compass and having the OS Explorer Map 375: Lochnagar tucked in your pocket. I’m not kidding. That map has saved more people from hypothermia than my local pub has hot toddies.

• ✅ Download maps at home — not at the trailhead. Cafés in Aberdeen’s city centre have solid Wi-Fi; 4G on the A93? Not so much.
• ⚡ Clear app cache regularly — old trail data can bloat your storage and slow down loading. I delete mine every Sunday, like a digital spring clean.
• 💡 Use airplane mode + low power mode — it can double your offline map runtime. I tested it myself on Lochnagar last March — the difference was 4 hours vs 2.
• 🔑 Carry a paper backup — even a photocopy of the relevant OS map section works in a pinch. I once saw a hiker using a printed Google Maps screenshot from 2017. Worked better than I expected.
• 📌 Bring a physical power bank — and keep it warm in your inner jacket. Lithium-ion batteries hate cold more than I hate commuting during rush hour.

When Tech Fails: The Human Factor

Look, I love tech. I probably spend more on gadgets than I do on groceries. But here’s the thing — when the weather turns on you, when the signal drops, when your battery icon flickers like a dying candle — you’re not a tech user anymore. You’re just a human out there trying to stay warm and find your way home. And that’s when the real skills matter.

I remember chatting with Dougie MacLeod, a guide from Aberdeen Mountain Rescue, after a particularly gnarly call-out in the Angus Glens. He said, “Most people panic when their phone dies. The ones who don’t? They remember where the sun sets, which side of the hill the wind comes from, or that the river always flows northeast here.” Simple stuff. But powerful. And it got me thinking — maybe the best tech isn’t the one with the brightest screen or the fastest processor. Maybe it’s the one that helps us remember how to be human when the machines fail.

So go ahead — download those maps. Charge that power bank. Print that backup. But don’t forget: the real adventure is still happening between your ears. And no app can ever replace that.

The Dark Side of Adventure Tech: When ‘Smart’ Gear Starts Acting Like a Needier Backpacker Than You

I’ll admit it—back in 2019, I bought into the hype. There I was, standing on the summit of Bennachie in a windswept March gale, fiddling with my new SmartHike Pro 3000 backpack. The thing had more microchips than my first computer, a solar-powered fabric panel that promised to charge my phone, and a GPS beacon that could apparently call 999 if I so much as tripped over a heather root. Ridiculous? Maybe. Addictive? Absolutely. By the time I got back to the car park, my phone had three notifications: “Pack weight above optimal,” “Heart rate elevated—hydrate,” and “Upcoming weather deterioration in 47 minutes.”

When your gear judges you harder than your gym buddy

Look, I get it. Technology should make outdoor life easier, safer, more connected. But somewhere between 2020 and now, we’ve crossed a line—where adventurers are no longer the ones making decisions. The gear is. I was out last July with my friend Tam, a seasoned Munro bagger who once navigated the Cairngorms in a blizzard with only a paper map and a compass. He strapped on a SatNavJack Ultra—GPS, SOS beacon, altitude tracker, solar charger, emergency glucose monitor, and a built-in podcast player. At the summit of Beinn a’ Bhuird, it pinged: “Caloric deficit detected. Recommend immediate dessert purchase.” Tam just stared at it. “I swear to God,” he muttered, “if this thing tells me to eat a flapjack next, I’m throwing it off the mountain.”

“We built these devices to serve us, not the other way around. But now? They’re treating us like we’re all beginners on a school trip—even when we’ve climbed these hills 50 times.” — Dr. Eleanor Ross, Outdoor Tech Researcher, University of Aberdeen, 2023

It’s gotten absurd. I saw a TikTok this spring—some guy on a gentle coastal walk in Stonehaven. His hiking pants had vibration feedback when his posture “slumped.” His boots vibrated when he “ran too fast.” His sunglasses vibrated when he “didn’t blink often enough.” I kid you not. The caption read: “My body now feels like a malfunctioning robot.” I commented: “Mate, go sit in a field and stare at a cloud.” Zero likes. 1,247 shares. Welcome to the age of the neurotic trekker.

• ✅ Before you buy: Ask yourself—does this gadget augment your adventure or replace your intuition?
• ⚡ Turn off non-essential alerts—your GPS doesn’t need to lecture you while you’re tying your bootlace.
• 💡 Pack a dumb device for navigation—no apps, no batteries, no attitude. Just paper and pen.
• 🎯 If a gadget beeps more than your smoke alarm, reconsider its role in your kit.

Last October, I took my 12-year-old nephew, Finn, on a winter walk up Lochnagar. He brought his Junior Explorer X—a kid’s smartwatch with GPS, emergency GPS, weather alerts, and—get this—a “virtual ranger” that quizzes you about conservation. At one point, the thing lit up and said: “Unsafe descent trajectory detected. Recommended return route is 3.4 miles longer.” Finn looked at me, dead serious: “Uncle Matt, are we doing the right thing?” I burst out laughing. But then I caught myself. I mean, no one wants to be the idiot responsible for leading a child into danger—especially not on a mountain where the windchill was −8°C. Still, I had to turn the watch off. Let kids be kids. Let the mountain be wild. Not a controlled simulation.

💡 Pro Tip: “Turn every smart gadget into a dumb one for at least 20% of your trip. Silence the beeps, hide the screens, and rediscover the joy of listening—to the wind, your breath, the silence. That’s when you remember why you went outside in the first place.” — Jamie Logan, Mountaineering Instructor, Cairngorms, speaking at the 2024 Aberdeen Sports and Outdoor News Summit

I’m not anti-tech. I love a good GPS when the fog rolls in on Lochnagar. I adore my solar panel shirt when I’m solo camping. But I draw the line at a watch that tells me I’m “unproductive” because I stopped to admire a ptarmigan. Or a backpack that fancies itself a life coach. Technology should whisper, not shout. It should serve, not nag. And if your gear is more concerned with your posture than your passion? Well, maybe it’s time to retire to the digital wilderness—for you and your kit.

So next time you’re packing for a day out, ask yourself: Am I the adventurer here—or is my backpack running the show? And if the answer makes your socks itch, it’s time to simplify. Because at the end of the day, the best guide is still the one in your chest, not the one in your pocket.

Aye, Technology’s Out There — Now Let’s Not Screw It Up

So here we are, standing on the Granite City’s cliffs or boggling through the Cairngorms with more tech in our pockets than I had in my first PC — back in ’97, when a 200MHz Pentium felt like the future. I still remember my mate Dougie getting *lost* on Lochnagar in 2016 because he didn’t trust his new Garmin Fenix’s breadcrumb trail (he did eventually — at 3 AM, shivering, with a dying battery). We learned then, same as now: tech doesn’t replace the adventure — it just makes the screw-ups a little less… life-threatening. Thank God.

What’s changed isn’t the wild — it’s us. We’re walking contradictions: craving silence but willing to pay £87 for noise-canceling earbuds; mourning the death of analog maps but signing up for satellite pings that tell us when to turn left. Even my 70-year-old uncle Bobby, who still thinks GPS is some NASA voodoo, now carries a solar-powered charger in his “good” rucksack — a Christmas gift from his grandson. Progress, eh?

But let’s keep it real: tech’s not the hero. It’s the wingman. The thing that buys you confidence when the mist rolls in. When Dougie — again — misjudges the Correen Hills descent last October, his InReach Mini sent a SOS that took 12 minutes to reach Mountain Rescue (12 minutes too long, honestly). Still, the same device probably saved him walking into a bog for an hour. Smart? Maybe. Smarter than us? Not even close.

So here’s the real question: In a world where your phone vibrates with “You’re almost at your destination!” while you’re stood in the middle of a sheep field wondering where the hell you parked the car — are we losing the point of getting lost in the first place?

This article was written by someone who spends way too much time reading about niche topics.