Getting from here to there, maps and GPS

Hubby handed me a folded road map, “where do I turn?”

I looked at him askance. We had just traveled a couple hundred miles to an unfamiliar city. Assuming he knew where he intended to go, I had not paid attention to any road signs.

“I need you to tell me where to turn,” he insisted.

“How can I tell you where to go? I don’t know where I am right now?” I protested in frustration. 

He pulled over, turned off the ignition, took the map, found our location and the roads to take. 

            With the purchase of our first computer, traveling changed. Hubby could ask for directions to most any place. He would download detailed, written instructions for highways, mileage and turns. I rode shotgun and read the instructions until the day Hubby came home grinning, “I got a Garmin.”

He plugged it into the cigarette lighter/charger port, chose a state, entered a zip code or the city’s name, the name of the street and the house number. 

            He had to wait a bit while it calibrated, and then the screen displayed a road with an arrow ahead, left or right. No more wads of maps. Plus, he could glance at it and know when to turn. 

He liked it. I found it exasperating to be asked for directions while still typing in details on the small screen.

I recalled all that recently when we flew out to Phoenix, Arizona. We needed help getting everywhere, including inside the airport to find the rental cars. Hubby approached a waiting chauffeur. Either the man thought the white haired, 85 year-old man needed an escort or the guy really did need to get in his steps for the day.

“I’ll show you,” he said. He walked us down a series of long halls, rode with us up two escalators, walked down another hall and said, “Ride this train. Get off when it says ‘car rentals.’”

We found every car rental desk except ours. The lady at the information desk pointed us outside to an elevator, “go right and you will see the shuttle.”

We did, and we eventually received the rental’s key, buckled up and he asked, “Which way to the hotel?

I didn’t know where we were going, but I could speak an address into my cell phone. It began bossing us around. 

“Turn left at the light,”  the GPS voice dictated.

We turned. I glanced at the screen and said, “You will be turning at an exit five miles from here.”

At four and a half miles, the GPS began nagging, “Turn right at the exit. Turn right at the exit.”

He turned. 

“Merge onto the highway,” the nag insisted.

He merged. I looked at the screen, “Now you have another seven miles before another right turn.”

I leaned back and watched the scenery. Once again I don’t have to know where I am or where I am heading, but from experience, I have grown to trust the GPS. 

Oh, there have been times, like the middle of the night when we detoured off the main highway for a break. The GPS did not take us back to the highway. It took us up over the most windy mountain with the narrowest roads in the middle of the darkest night. We should have turned back to the highway and then asked for instructions. 

        Occasionally while speeding down the road we hear, “GPS signal lost.” We shrug it off. We know the phone will reconnect. Then it will know where we are, where we are going and how to get there. So I ignore the announcement, kick back and enjoy the view. It will tell Hubby where to turn when it’s time.