The Trouble with GPS

To celebrate my new driving privilege, I got a GPS system. Just for fun, I typed in an address. "Turn right at Fifth Street then turn right."

My dad, who's worked with computers for quite awhile, believes that technology only cooperates when you speak to it. "I don't want to take the Turnpike. Show me a different route."

I must have sounded patronizing because the GPS responded, "Recalculating. Turn right at Sixth Street then turn right."

"Nope. Try again," I said.

"Recalculating. Turn right at Seventh Street then turn right." The crisp British voice that sounded so sure of itself five streets earlier sounded more and more panicky with every street I sped past. "Recalculating. Turn right at Eighth Street then turn right. Recalculating. Turn right at Ninth Street then turn right."

It couldn't take it anymore, "Please drive the highlighted route!"

I couldn't take it either, "You can't make me! I don't want to!"

And the screen froze.

In the ensuing silence, I imagined the GPS's response. "If you don't want to, why'd you ask me in the first place?"

Ever since that incident, the GPS system has sat quietly in the glove compartment. If I Mapquest everything beforehand, I'll be just fine.