My Pal Garmin

I grew tired and listless during my drive back to New York for the holidays. The highway route was monotonous and slow; I was just one among many and the pace was languorous. I tried different things to stay awake, screamed to shock myself awake forcing adrenaline into my body, blinked my tired eyes, sang badly to Christmas songs on the radio. Nothing worked. I focused on the road--or tried to--and merged onto the next stretch of highway.

"Continue five miles and exit right," said the stilted voice from my Garmin GPS device. Even though its voice was a combination of sound files, there was something human sounding about it.

"So, Garmin," I said, "Have you been doing this long? You know, giving directions and all that?"

Of course there was no response, but I continued my side of the conversation.

"Man, I am really sleepy. I really hate these long drives, don't you? They exhaust me. And for what? Just to get together with family. It's the holidays. Blah, blah, blah. To be honest, sometimes I'd just rather stay home where it's warm. Maybe with some cocoa. Or a book! There's book I've been trying to finish. I brought it with me too, but--"

"Exit right in two miles."

"Oh, thanks. Anyway, I don't think I'll get much reading done. Mom is going to want me to fix this and that. Dad's going to spend the day trying to get me to take some new job at the company. I'll be seeing some family I guess, which is nice when they aren't pestering me with really personal questions. Oh! And the food. Actually the food is pretty good. Mom makes this chicken and it is so--"

"Exit right in point five miles."

"Oh, right. Hey, anybody ever tell you you're a good listener? I'm really glad I brought you along."

"Exit right."

"Right-o."

At this point I was so drawn into my one-sided conversation that I hadn't bothered checking the exit number. There were two exits very close together, no more than thirty feet apart, one heading east, and the other west. I took the first one, realizing my error too late.

"Recalculating."