~Upstream and Down~

Read this first: GPS unplugged~ The rest of the story . . . I'm bad, but not bad enough that I didn't see something wildly inappropriate about the route GPS sent me on yesterday. Bruce called the Garmin GPS help line this morning. There was no plot against me fomented by artificial intelligence gone amuck, a possibility I'd entertained as I zigzagged around roads that went nowhere; no reality show with a helicopter hovering above, filming how long the black Toyota truck would go in circles before the driver pulled off the road and cried. Apparently there is a preference setting in the GPS that was set to "avoid highways and avoid U-turns." Well, duh! I was trying to go 60 miles with a GPS that was determined to keep me off highways. No wonder. To my credit I'd rebelled at one point and got on Rt. 95. I called the GPS some bad names, and yanked its dendrites from the cigarette lighter, because she insisted on instructing me to get off at each exit. You should...

I had a little argument today. With my GPS. I was headed to visit my son in a city 60 miles north, an hour and fifteen minutes away. It took me longer than this. I listened to my GPS. The GPS, a gift from my husband, is insurance that I'll arrive where I'm trying to go. Before the GPS, I arrived late, after trial and error, use of reverse gear, U-turns, and some swearing. And phone calls. Driving, for me, is like playing a game of chess where only a few spaces at a time are revealed. Apparently I'm one of those people with poor ability to form a "mental map." Call it what you will-- a weakness, a problem, a disability-- coupled with the fact that I confuse left and right, it makes for a round-about trip. But the GPS has been great. Until today. There is something extremely stubborn about artificial intelligence. And to be fair, I can be stubborn too. We didn't see eye to eye. In retrospect, I realize it was trying to take me by the most direct route as the cr...

I just got the perfect Mother's Day gift: A gadget-- a man's gift-- or at least the kind of gift men like to give: a GPS for my car. Yes! Forget diamonds, flowers, and shrubs to be planted on a sunny Sunday afternoon. Forget breakfast in bed. I need a GPS. With my left/right confusion, and inability to visualize directions, I've been lost more times than I care to admit, closer to home than I care to admit. I have trouble with lefts and rights. If you tell me to go left, I'll invariably head right. It's a glitch in my directional wiring. I've worked around it by excessive use of reverse gear and U-turns. Add to that my tendency to "zone out," only to discover miles and miles later when I come out of my reverie, that I missed a turn and have no clue where I am. I once drove by my own driveway, so engrossed in the book on tape I was listening to, that I failed to notice I was home. My husband has come to expect my phone calls when I'm off on a jaunt...