Greetings! I’m Janice Johnson. Thanks for joining the fun here on Maladjusted Mondays. Linda heroically offered to host this collection of scathing exposés in which I rat out my uncooperative appliances. I originally published these posts on my blog, Joywriting: Everybody Has a Story, where I do occasionally write about something besides my appliances. You can visit me there any time by clicking here.
And now for the twelfth post in the series, which first appeared on my blog May 24, 2017.
Navigate THIS!! (It’s a car thing)
My brother, David, and I drove to the town of Nevada from different directions. Next day, we agreed to each find our way north to Warsaw and meet at the Common Ground Cafe for lunch.
His rental car had an add-on navigation system, and my Infiniti of course has the latest version of GypsE ROSE. What could go wrong?
My route meandered up state highways alongside the Truman Reservoir before veering off onto a local road that approached town from the “back” side. At length I came to Highway 7, where I expected to turn right. But GypsE ROSE said to cross it.
The map showed me turning right just past 7, and crossing a bridge into town. Fine.
A footbridge. You know… for pedestrians.
“Not driving over that.” I pulled into a convenient parking lot to reconnoiter.
The cafe was only a half-mile away. Why not walk?
So I took off afoot. A man crossing the other way stopped to chat. I mentioned the cafe. He told me I’d see a convenience store and said, “That’s Main Street, just keep going.”
Soon I saw the store. Something stood between me and it: Highway 7 and some fast-moving traffic. “Not walking across that.” Back over the bridge and into the car. As soon as I turned to retrace my route, the map guidance changed to show me taking Highway 7 into town and turning onto Main.
“Why didn’t you say so in the first place?” I demanded.
I figured David would be tired of waiting for me by now, but as I parked I got a text from him. “Just got to the cafe.”
When we were seated, he told me his own nav system tale. . .
Shortly before he was to turn from a narrow farm road onto a highway, he accidentally pushed the steering wheel “phone” button. A feminine voice said, “Phone. Do you wish to make a call? After the tone, say ‘select a phone,’ ‘add a phone,’ or ‘no.'”
His nav chose that moment to say, “In zero point five miles, turn right onto Highway 83.”
Ms. Phone: “I didn’t understand that. Do you wish to make a call? After the tone, say ‘select a phone,’ ‘add a phone,’ or ‘no.'”
David was about to yell “NO,” but his nav butted in. “In zero point three miles, turn right onto Highway 83.”
Ms. Phone: “I didn’t understand that. Do you wish…”
David couldn’t get a word in edgewise.
Desperately trying to kill the phone and end this mechanical stalemate, he missed his turn and drove two miles before finding a place to turn around.
By the time he got to Warsaw, he figured I’d be tired of waiting for him.
I thought of my ongoing appliance battles. “There’s such a thing,” I said, “as too much technology.”
Thanks for reading!