Wednesday, July 15, 2015

Turn, Turn, Turn

I don't like GPS (Global Positioning System). I like maps, actual paper maps with little blue, red, and yellow lines on it that represent streets and roads. Maps let you know where you are in relation to other things around you. GPS is the scourge of the twenty first century. It is creating an entire generation of geographical idiots who have no idea where they are, or where they are going. It also has made it possible to follow your teenage children or your spouse from the comfort of your home. And don't forget, if you, a citizen, can locate somebody with GPS, so can the government. Anyway, Mark bought a GPS unit back in 2007 because he gets lost going out to the mail box. The first time we used it was in Atlanta that year. It was also the first time in my life that I didn't know where I was after driving for miles. All I knew is that some robot kept giving my orders to turn here, turn there, and....  recalibrating....

This past Sunday afternoon when we were in Atlanta for the reunion, Mark and his sister wanted to go antiquing, something that I actually like. I don't like to go crazy with it, but I do like to visit the occasional antique shop. The problem was how to get to the exact antique store Mark had read about, from his sister's house. Well it turned out that there was no problem, iPhones have GPS built right in and both Mark and his sister have iPhones. So away we went, to 526 Flat Shoals Avenue, SE. Here is the problem with iPhone GPS, it lags behind reality. So after a few missed turns, some shouting at the driver, and retracing of our route, we found the antique shop. Except it wasn't an antique shop anymore. It is now a motorcycle shop. Oh, and did I mention that I was driving because Mark is terrified of driving on hills and 'curvy' streets, and I am terrified of his sister's driving? After a bit of conversation about making me drive to a sketchy neighborhood to visit some store that doesn't exist, Mark and his sister decided to go to plan 'B'. They had another antique mall that they wanted to go to. So Mark punched the coordinates into his iPhone, and his sister did the same with her iPhone. Again, off we went in search of antiques. From the passenger seat Mark's iPhone was barking out instructions to turn here, continue on to the route, and turn there. From the back seat came conflicting orders from his Sister's iPhone. It turned out that they had not entered the same coordinates, yet the voices on both units were the same. So when one told me to turn, the other one came back with the order to go straight ahead. When one told me to continue on the route, the other one was telling me to turn again. All this confusion resulted in much loud conversation... and some cursing.

To every thing, turn, turn, turn. There is a season, turn, turn, turn. A time for love, a time for hate. A time to scream, a time to curse. A time to kill the two knuckleheads in the car with me. 

1 comment:

  1. So who was it that punched in the wrong coordinates?