So, my family do not know how to have fun (this, I have been told, includes me, but then again “fun” is relative, but not in the case of my family, they are the 51st shade of grey), and thus i was pulled out of my normal routine of eat, sleep and Gangnam style to go on one of these so called “holidays”, to sleep on the ground and eat horrible food. now don’t get me wrong, i like camping, it is good for building character, but I already have a character, I am the one who stays inside. back to the matter in hand then, half way through this holiday(in France, which is average at best), while driving back from some form of stately home when my parents suddenly decided to take an impromptu subsidiary trip to the beach, they know i don’t like the outside, so i consider this to be some form of spiteful punishment for this particular undesirable character trait, as I expected the beach trip was boring and uneventful, so we will skip to the interesting bit. Now the beach was down a kind of forest path, and as we emerged from this path, we looked quizzically on at the space we thought our car was, it, of course, was nowhere to be seen. After a tad of umming and aaring, we decided to walk down to a cheap go karting place where a old french man was kind enough to ring the french police(gendarmes) and ask them to come and fix this strange predicament. By this point the male who made me had gone up the road abit further than we had previously checked. Around about 20 minutes later, just as the gendarmes arrived, the me-maker(for the record i don’t like the words “dad” or “father”) rings up to say “I found the car”, turns out we came out a different forest path to the forest path we walked down in the first place, which for the record, I did point out to them, and so we had to try to explain in broken french why the gendarmes could piss off. The end.