GPS

“The GPS is a bit pricy, but such a fantastic help for directional challenged,” says the girl with the piercings in the ears, nose, lips and who knows what else. The thought of getting to the desired destination without the trouble of pulling over and buying coffee to ask the way, justifies the price.

Armored with the little screen in my window and Lee’s American-English-voice, I hit the road. It’s not a good time, I might add, where construction workers frantically try to beat the snowfall of the coming winter. Lee recalculates the moment I skip the turn onto the restricted road, but much to my surprise Lee takes me around the block and after ten minutes of driving, ending up at the same NO ENTRY sign. Lee yells at me and I yell back, later turning Lee off and once again buying coffee to ask for directions at the nearby gas station.

Not willing to call it a day, I pull over and turn the GPS on, only this time I change the voice to that of a woman. She might be more sympathetic, less recalculating, but Suzy is even more persistent. “In 800 meters turn right” she says. I can’t. I feel bad for her having to recalculate every time. She must think I’m a total idiot or getting the impression that I don't care to listen.

“Mom” says my daughter two weeks later. “You take this way too personal. You can use the DETOUR-option you know?” She takes the GPS and scrolls down the tool-button. “Let’s try another language,” she says. “Ry veertig kilometers en draai regs op die Guelph lyn” says Jan in Boer-Afrikaans. I laugh. “You’re kidding me.” Jan gets displeasured, but continues to give directions as if he sits next to me.

When I see the girl with the piercings again I’ll thank her for giving me direction. However, it will be of interest to know if she has a GPS with the option of choosing between a pleasant voice and a demanding one.