Not all those who wander are lost (but try telling that to my GPS system!) Kids Activities Blog
The last fourth dimension I used a GPS in-car navigational system, information technology routed me down a street that was closed off past construction. I didn't accept a map with me "relying on the GPS, of course "and spent then long arguing with the device nearly which style to go that I almost missed my cousin'southward hymeneals.
Fast-forrard four years. We recently rented a motorcar for a trip from Washington, DC to Pennsylvania, and establish to both our delight and horror that it came with another GPS tool. But how bad could it really exist? We ™d made the trip dozens of times, and so help from the sky would just be icing on the cake. If nothing else, perhaps it would be able to guide u.s. through the complex maze of the DC street system. Surely a piddling extra aid wouldn't be awry.
The trip started off without incident, although it took a little while to become used to the GPS tool'south unique commentary. For example, why did it tell us every half mile to not get out ahead, but didn't warn us nosotros needed to get three lanes over to actually exit until it was too late? How could we experience such anger toward it, and yet such fondness when it helped us take the next exit and and then figure our way back onto the highway and out of the city?
As time went on, the commentary began showing personality, and nosotros began referring to it not quite fondly, but familiarly, every bit Madam. Madam was a contradiction. For instance, for someone connected with such high-end engineering, she was very intolerant, particularly of any attempts to find alternate routes.
Considering we wanted to avoid a toll road, we tried veering off Madam's proposed class. She didn't realize my husband had grown up in the surface area, and her voice grew more than and more than pained as she begged, As soon every bit possible, make a U-turn and caput west.
The more than concerned she sounded, the more than tempting it became to mess with Madam's mind. Wouldn't it exist fun to, say, inquire for directions to Maine and then drive downward to Florida? If she sounded drastic subsequently two miles, what would she exercise after 100 miles? Or one,000?
Would she kickoff proper name-calling or screaming invectives? If y'all eventually capitulated and turned around, would she say, Finally! or I told you lot so! ? If you typed in an overseas destination, would she tell you to swim?
Nosotros considered provoking Madam'south wrath to its limits, but for the sake of our futurity insurance premiums, decided not to test her endurance to the point of an explosion. Nosotros switched the organisation off and made information technology safely to our destination without outside aid.
On the way back the following day, nosotros felt a picayune guilty about how nosotros ™d mocked Madam's guidance. Perhaps she was just trying to help. We switched her on. Eager to please, she immediately showed united states of america a shortcut onto a highway. Of a sudden, we relaxed. Maybe Madam was a friend after all. Maybe she had our all-time interests at heart.
And we became wise to her ways, and she to ours. When we took a circuitous route to avert another price road, we switched Madam off so our disability to stay on one road wouldn't cause her any anguish. And when the route directions became static equally we stayed on the main highway, we turned her off again to permit her to rest her vox for a while.
Our shaky foundation gradually developed into trust as nosotros and Madam were lulled into an amiable human relationship. As nosotros reached the outskirts of the city, we switched Madam dorsum on. With her guiding us, we were confident that nosotros ™d easily find our way. She was that North Star that sailors used to notice their way back to port. And she ™d guide usa through the mangled maze of highways sprawling around the city dorsum safely to our hotel.
Or so we idea.
We should have suspected her abilities when she told the states to go out the highway earlier than nosotros expected. Merely, duped into a fake sense of security, we trusted that perhaps this was a shortcut.
In fairness, maybe it was a shortcut, if you count the number of miles. Only 20 miles on a highway is preferable to iii or four miles through a stoplight-ridden, traffic-congested, shady neighborhood with drug dealers and prostitutes on every corner.
Was Madam in cahoots with a drug dealer? Were we their next victims? Or was she guiding us toward some hit man she ™d paid to avenge her feelings after our mean-spirited teasing the day before? We made sure the doors were locked and drove direct ahead, hoping that somewhen the area would start getting friendlier.
So, Exit to the highway, 0.5 miles ahead, Madam said, and nosotros breathed a sigh of relief. But it was the longest one-half-mile we ™d ever driven, and I ™m certain Madam was enjoying every minute of our misery. We were furious, simply how do you sue a satellite for intentional infliction of emotional distress? The minute we turned onto the highway, Madam was unceremoniously dumped from her place of award and respect every bit we pushed the "off" button in disgust.
Then we tried to find the correct exit on our own. We ended upwardly on a dirt road. Should we put on Madam? I suggested tentatively. We both guffawed.
Merely it raised the question "would we have taken the wrong exit if she ™d been switched on? Past the time Madam rebooted, we would probably have passed our go out 5 miles ago and been on our fashion to the opposite side of the city. But that wouldn't have been so bad. Because no matter the one-way streets, weaving highway exits, and poor signage, nosotros ™d still have Madam to guide us through another burned-out neighborhood toward our destination.
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