I have discovered the secret to never getting lost.
It has nothing to do with car-pooling or tow trucks. It has nothing to do with what state you live in. And, no, I haven’t been arrested.
I’ve discovered the GPS.
It’s not mine actually. I drove Jenny to the airport today, and everyone was pretty sure they’d never see me again if I didn’t have a GPS to get back.
(They may have been right.)
So, Teri let me borrow hers. There I was. Pulling out of the airport, facing a world I didn’t know. Streets I’d never seen. Signs I couldn’t pronounce. Cars with no “Go, Huskers!” sticker in the back window.
I couldn’t have cared less. I had a GPS. I charged it up, punched in the coordinates for "Home," and we were all set. “Drive 2.7 miles, then veer left on Interstate 85,” a very suave female voice announced in a polished British accent. Two point seven miles. Left. Eighty-five. I think I can handle that. It even came with a cool, live-feed picture of the road I was driving, the current speed limit, and my ETA. The only things missing were a glass of lemonade and a good book.
It's amazing what I'm capable of when I'm listening to a voice other than the ones inside my head. I made it all the way from Atlanta to Gainesville without a single wrong turn. No backtracking. No wrong exits. No U-turns. I was very impressed.
And then I pulled into the driveway of “Home.” Zero miles to destination, the GPS informed me.
It was a stranger’s house. White siding with dark green panels. Very nice. Definitely not home.
Oops.
Turns out “Home” was not the correct coordinate system. Apparently, this specific “home” was no longer in commission. I did what I usually do when I get lost. Got the car out of the driveway, flipped a U, and drove the other way.
Apparently, the polished British chick doesn’t like being contradicted.
“Redirecting. Redirecting. Redirecting,” she sternly decreed. She was using the same tone I’ve heard my sister use to tell her daughter not to eat the needles off the Christmas tree.
I turned my music up and ignored her.
Ultimately, I did make it to the house I was looking for. Twenty minutes past my ETA. But the whole experience taught me some valuable lessons:
#1: Opening the passenger door from the driver’s seat to pull in the seatbelt while the car’s in drive is not a good idea. Especially not on the Interstate.
#2: Do not tick off the polished British chick inside the GPS machine.
#3: Technology is helpless in the face of traffic jams.
#4: Always make sure you know where “Home” is before you try to get there.
