I’ve never been a fan of driving in big cities. Scratch that – I’ve always hated city driving. The bumper-to-bumper driving, the weaving in and out, the sheer familiarity of unfamiliar streets. That is, until GPS came along, and changed my life.
Honestly, it’s one of the greatest inventions of my lifetime – right up there with Marketplace. Without GPS, how would I ever find all those “gently used” treasures in neighborhoods you’d only dare enter in broad daylight, preferably with a friend and pepper spray?
I’d love to blame my big city driving anxiety on the fact I lived in a small town, on gravel roads, where the only traffic jam involved a tractor and a cow. But then I look at my three kids – same town – same upbringing, yet they drive in big cities like they were born behind the wheel of a taxi. I’m glad they inherited the brave gene because white knuckling the steering wheel while cussing and whispering prayers is no fun at all.
I remember driving with my mom. Just being on the interstate made her nervous. We weren’t even in heavy traffic, but she was always prepared – right hand clutching the door handle, left hand on the console, leaning back preparing to brace herself. Her tenseness made me nervous, and I’d tease her: “This isn’t a driver’s ed car, Mom. You don’t get a brake pedal.” I’m proud to say she passed on that legacy to me – imaginary braking runs in the family, or at least in the maternal line.
Before GPS, getting directions meant counting stoplights, squinting for landmarks and stopping at Casey’s hoping the clerk would say, “You just missed it.” Lucky for me, I’ve always had a decent sense of direction. It amazes me how many people have no clue where North is. My husband, Tan, is one of them. He’s a GPS devotee. He even named his GPS voice Jenny, which is both adorable and slightly concerning.
Weve taken trips with friends where the route was painfully obvious, like the time we were headed to our condo on the ocean. All you had to do was travel towards the area with NO TREES. But nope – we listened to Jenny who had us driving in circles, thoroughly frustrating our friends, who eventually shouted, “Tan, put that damn thing away. You can see the ocean’s over there!” But Tan stayed loyal. Jenny was his sweet-voiced tour guide, and he was going to be true to her.
Tan plugs in Jenny even when we’re headed to places we could drive blindfolded. I can’t help myself, and always ask, “Why?” He says he likes to know there’s a curve up ahead and it gives us our ETA. How can I fault the man? Jenny’s giving him curves and comfort.
And why does it always seem that when I’m in the middle of a big city, desperately needing GPS, that’s when a phone call comes in? The directions vanish, replaced by “Incoming Call.” OMG, I can’t disconnect that call fast enough. The last instruction was “Turn in 500 feet.” Who even knows what 500 feet looks like? At 70 mph, it’s basically now. At 35, it’s soon-ish. Either way, you’re guessing and praying. Why couldn’t that call have come in when GPS said, “Continue on for 90 miles”?
GPS says, “You have arrived at your destination” and you find yourself staring at a dumpster and a nail salon. Then, you see the little flag – behind you on the screen. How could I have missed it? Around the block we go. If you’re lucky, your GPS tosses in a photo of your destination. Pictures are gold.
Maybe there’s another reason we love GPS so much. Besides getting us where we need to go, they’re calm. Unlike our spouses, they’ll reroute us as many times as we need without calling us names. They don’t get upset. And, if we get sick of their voice, we can mute them, turn them down or change them.
I’ve never changed my GPS voice. It’s whatever came as the default setting on my car. But I’ve heard there are options – even some with accents. One day, I’m going to do it. I’m going to find an Italian voice and I’m going to name him Gio, short for Giovanni. Tan has his Jenny – I can have my Gio. He won’t just give me directions. He’ll give me feelings. It’ll be a spicy ride, for sure.
I can already imagine sitting in traffic, and Giovanni sighs: “Amoré– I could’ve made you a fresh batch of pasta by now – Al dente, with basil I grew myself. But no – you sit here in traffic, glowing like a goddess of poor timing. Eyes on the road, my beautiful catastrophe.”
When I miss a turn, he’ll say, “You missed the turn, my love. I could reroute you…or we could just keep driving forever. I’m not in a rush.”
Arriving at my destination, Gio will utter breathlessly, “You parked. I’m impressed. Now turn off the engine…slowly. Let’s savor this moment.”
GPS – one of the greatest inventions of this century. It stays calm and always recalculates without judgement. It whispers sweet nothings like, “In 500 feet, make a U-turn” – which, frankly, feels like emotional support.
Pour yourself your favorite cocktail and raise your glass in a toast: “To GPS – the calm voice that never judges, always reroutes, and never says, “I told you so.”
To Giovanni, my GPS Casanova, who makes every wrong turn feel intentional and every traffic jam feel like foreplay.
May your battery stay full, your signal stay strong, and your destination never be behind a dumpster.
To detours, drama and the kind of love that always recalculates. Amore – Cheers!”
