The first time I encountered a GPS unit was several years ago when Kathy and I were out in the Washington D.C. area, riding with our friend Doug Instenes (who by happy coincidence was out there visiting his sister.) He had GPS in his car and thought it was the most indispensable innovation since they made wheels round. Kathy was intrigued, but I viewed it with grave suspicion, sort of like a prehistoric cave dweller beholding fire for the first time. It was interesting but disconcerting and something without which I had managed to survive just fine, thank you very much. (I can be such a curmudgeon about such things.)
My defenses finally came crashing down this past February, when I drove to Madison with a Carthage colleague, Amy Haines – and we found ourselves thoroughly and perhaps irreversibly lost when some serious road construction threw us off my tried-and-true route, especially once I had managed to miss one of the detour signs until it was way too late. But never fear: Amy whipped out her blackberry and within seconds was connected to her GPS service which guided us back to our destination with ridiculous ease. At that moment, I knew that it was just a matter of time before the Bergs joined the GPS bandwagon.
And indeed, it happened with Kathy’s birthday on June 27th- although by the time I thought of giving her a GPS, she had unbeknownst to me already bought herself one (in order to take advantage of a 2 for 1 sale with a Schulte School colleague.) So we have now integrated this into our lives and thus far it has been a fairly cordial relationship. Probably my biggest issue with it is that when the unit directs us to go a particular way and we need to go another (for whatever reason) I somehow feel like I’m hurting its feelings- especially when the unit might be directing us to “if possible, make a U turn” because it erroneously believes that we have gotten off course and need to get back on track as quickly as possible. If it were simply flashing those directions on the screen, it wouldn’t be that hard to ignore them. But when that female voice says “turn right,” it feels downright rude to knowingly ignore its advice and turn left.
At any rate, I seem to have gotten over the biggest emotional hurdle. . . which was trying to come to terms with the fact that such a thing is even possible and technically feasible. Still to come (I hope) is an increase in my comfort level over having what would seem like a relatively smart computer telling me where to drive. It brings to mind the malevolent computer HAL from “2001: A Space Odyssey.” which goes on something of a killing spree. Thus far, the woman who lives inside our GPS does not appear to have similarly sinister plans for Kathy and me. . . but we’ll see.
By the way, one quirk in its mechanism is that it seems to be a bit outdated (which might be why it was so inexpensive, says Kathy) and so we will often be on streets and roads which, as far as our GPS is concerned, do not exist. One of the main roads I take in order to get from our hotel to the Shalom Center is a divide four lane highway- and the GPS has no idea that this highway even exists. On the screen will appear the words “Off Road,” and the female voice chimes in, urging us to “find the nearest road.” Over and over and over again. I’m tempted to shout back “I’m ON a road! I”m ON a road!” the way 19th century telephone users were reportedly known to shout “I’m COMING! I’m COMING!” as they ran to answer the new-fangled contraption jangling in their parlor.
It’s also possible to get in trouble if you have it on the wrong setting. Case in point: on our way to Dubuque, the GPS somehow got set so that it will put you on an interstate highway, if there is one that exists and is available to you. The trouble is that when we pulled into Dubuque and fully expecting to just follow highway 81 right through town and out into the country. But the GPS was imploring us to turn south on Interstate 90. . . away from Beloit, towards Rockford. . . which would have been utterly and completely the wrong way to go. And the longer we ignored those particular directions and kept going on our merry way, the more the GPS woman seemed to squawk at us to turn the car around and head where she thought we were supposed to. Honestly, by the time we were through Beloit I had mentally composed a letter of apology to her/it. But don’t worry – I won’t send it. She/it might get the wrong idea about who’s boss.