The GPS lady and the road less traveled by
By Burton W. Cole
Many years ago, poet Robert Frost penned the famous lines, “Two roads diverged in a wood, and I — / I took the one less traveled by, / And that has made all the difference.”
Which is to say, his GPS didn’t work either.
My GPS lady will coo something like, “In 800 feet turn left.”
My mind begins racing: “Let’s see, a football field is 100 yards, which is 300 feet, so 800 feet is, um, uh, two football fields plus, uh, add the seven, carry the nine, and, somewhere around the 40-yard line… or is it the 25? No, no, it’s um…”
About that moment, I spot a dirt path on my left, whip the wheel, screech through the turn just in time, and… find myself on the road less traveled by.
The GPS Lady screams, “Rerouting! Rerouting!”
The estimated time of arrival jumps from 23 minutes to six days and 17 minutes.
I think the GPS lady does it on purpose. Or she’s drunk. I bet if Frost wrote another verse to his “The Road Not Taken” poem, that’s exactly what he would have said.
Many times, I’ve been tooling down the interstate, knowing my exit lies 17 miles away, when I hear three quick bings as the drunken GPS lady pipes up, “In 200 feet, turn right.”
There’s nothing but a solid, concrete wall on my right. She’s trying to kill me.
I’m so disturbed that 17 miles later, I realize the concrete wall is gone and I’ve just blown by my exit.
I swear I hear the GPS snicker.
I suspect that the GPS lady displays passive aggressive tendencies because her GPS husband never listens to her.
But I don’t want him directing me either. GPS man would sound like, “Ah, it’s around here somewhere. No, we’re not stopping to ask for directions. Just keep driving. We’ll find it. It’s around the next curve, I think. No? It’s gotta be the next one, then. C’mon, let’s go. You’re driving like an old lady.”
One driver speculated that maybe her GPS was sending her along the slower route to clear the road for drivers it likes better.
Maybe Robert Frost owned one of those GPS programs built for my age group — old and nostalgic, with a few memory cells on the fritz:
“Oh, what’s the name of that road? Starts with a K. Or was it a G? Anyway, it’s where that old red barn with the green roof used to be before they tore it down 20 years ago. Remember that? Ha. If they’d waited another three months it would have come down on its own. Old man Hinglehobb never was much of a builder. Why, this one time… Hey! That was your turn. Back up, back up. Why don’t you ever listen to me?”
Our ancestors navigated oceans and crossed deserts using only the stars to guide them. Today, we can barely cross the hallway without checking the GPS, despite its proven sadistic tendencies.
It could be worse. Cartoonist Walt Handelsman once speculated in a Newsday panel what it would be like if the IRS made a GPS: “…proceed to the intersection following Schedule C (Section 4-6), then turn right if the number of passengers in your vehicle (Form B22) is greater than the number of cupholders (Line 15) currently in use…”
Anyway, if you need me, in 1,500 feet take a right where the Henderson place used to be. You remember Henderson, don’t you? Ran the hardware store in town. Anyway, you can’t miss it. It’s the road with no traffic. Because it’s the one less traveled by. GPS won’t let anyone near it.
Reroute Burt at burton.w.cole@gmail.com or on the Burton W. Cole page on Facebook.