I’ve been directionally challenged since Kindergarten. Even in first, second, third and fourth grades, I routinely became lost during the five-block hike home from school.It happened so often my mother quit worrying about it. She would wait until I was 15 or 20 minutes late, then hop in the car and cruise around the neighborhood until she spotted me. Most times I would be strolling along unconcernedly, not even aware that I was lost.
A big part of the problem is—as my mother or any teacher whose classroom door I’ve ever darkened could tell you—I daydream. My mind isn’t especially active, but it does enjoy a rich fantasy life, and not just the one about the 747 filled with inebriated Swedish stewardesses, either. Though I’ll admit that’s one of my personal favorites.
Ahem. The point is, my mind wanders. It was worse when I was a kid, but it’s still pretty bad. Especially when I’m driving.
Driving is the second most boring activity in the universe. (The first is watching any movie starring Rob Schneider.) So when I’m driving, my mind—in an effort to stave off terminal boredom—meanders off onto pathways of its own devising.
I think: What would I do differently, if I were president? Why do Super Balls bounce so high? How do people eat tapioca pudding without barfing? What is tapioca, anyway, because it sure looks like fish eggs. And speaking of fish eggs, who decided those were food? Probably the same guy who invented tapioca. Look! A cow! It sure is sunny today. The clouds look beautiful. Are those cumulous? Or the other one? Cirrus. That’s it. Isn’t there a third kind of cloud? Hmm. Another cow! There are more cows per capita in India than any other country in the world. Where’d I read that? I sure like cheeseburgers.
And so on. By the time my mind gets around to asking, “Where am I, anyway?” or “Wasn’t I supposed to turn left about three exits back?” it’s usually too late.
So it’s only natural I finally broke down and purchased one of those GPS gizmos for my pickup. I’ve had it for about a month now, and lemme tell ya, these things are great!
No longer do I have to think about where I’m going. I just punch in the address before I leave home and the GPS tells me when to turn left, when to turn right, and when to go straight. It’s like driving with The Lovely Mrs. Taylor, only the GPS gizmo actually has some rudimentary idea of where we’re going. (Mrs. T makes her turn-by-turn suggestions at random, I think, or according to moon phases or something. I’m basing this opinion on typical results.)
Anyway, the GPS gizmo is wonderful. The only downside, as far as I can see, is that in the month I’ve been using it, I’ve become even more directionally handicapped than I was before.
I now find myself using the GPS to get to places less than a mile away; places I absolutely know how to find on my own. As Mrs. Taylor pointed out the other day, it’s getting ridiculous. I know she’s right, but I can’t help myself. It’s just too easy to punch in the pre-programmed destination and let the gizmo do all my thinking for me.
How long will it be before I need the GPS to guide me from my easy chair to the cold beer in the back of the fridge?
Sure, it’s great to finally know where I’m going, to drive anywhere without fear of becoming lost. But GPS ownership has opened up a whole new inventory of fears, the most pressing being—if I should misplace my GPS gizmo, will I have to buy another one just to find it?
To contact Mike Taylor with your questions, comments, or directions to a map store, e-mail mtaylor325@gmail.com or write via snail mail to: Mike Taylor, c/o Valley Media, Inc., PO Box 9, Jenison, MI 49429. Miss a week? More Reality Check online at http://mtrealitycheck.blogspot.com or www.mlive.com/advancenewspapers.
No comments:
Post a Comment