About two years ago Bob bought one of those car GPS devices which were obviously invented by men because men refuse to stop and ask for directions. Ever. You can be driving around in circles for three hours, but a man will not admit to being lost. Enter the male technological triumphant of the 21st century - a machine that tells you where to go.
Personally I hate navigating with the GPS, not in small part because it once told my husband to drive into a lake. I also hate the whiney female voice (I call her Martha) who says "recalculating" with a long suffering sigh anytime you refuse to follow her exact directions. Sorry Martha, I don’t care to drive into a lake, detour around road-closed barricades or drive the wrong way down one-way streets.
It’s not just the bad directions I dislike. I hate the way Martha tells me to turn in 50 feet at Henderson Road. If I’ve never seen Henderson Road, how am I to know where it is until I’ve driven close enough to read the street sign?
If a woman had invented the GPS, we’d get instructions like this:
"Turn left at the Dunkin Donuts up ahead. Actually turn into the parking lot at the Dunkin Donuts. Go inside and buy a chocolate glazed and a cup of coffee."
"Turn right at the boutique on the corner that sells the cutest earrings and necklaces which are half price on Fridays. Today is Friday. I’m just saying..."
"Continue 200 miles on I-95. So, now that we have time to chat, how ya been doing?"
"You seem tense. Turn left at the next stoplight and you’ll find a full-service spa on your right."
Now those are the kind of directions I need. Drive into a lake? No thanks.