As anyone who has worked with me professionally or personally, or in fact anyone that I’ve ever met casually in a coffee shop, knows I’m not really a “tech” person. Truth be told, the first time I sent a text on my new smart phone, it sent shock waves through my professional network. My daughter lectured me when she was home last Christmas about the importance of ALWAYS having my phone with me when I went out. I did the next time I left the house and she proceeded to text me to pick up her Starbucks order on my way home.
So, we’ve established that I’m not really one to embrace technology. However, I do have to say that using a navigator feature on my phone is a great new development. In ages past, I’d print out directions to an unknown destination. That really only told me how many miles I should be going, and how long it would take before I took a wrong turn and got lost. Then, the printed directions were useless. My backup plan was to stop at a convenience store to ask for directions. Yes, I’m one of the few males in North America not afraid to ask for directions. I’d go in to find a clerk either about fifteen years old and had never heard of my destination, got someone that had recently arrived in this country and didn’t speak much English, or I got that wonderful local that provided me with a “short cut”. His or her shortcut usually involved twenty two changes of direction, and I was totally confused after “right at the lights, turn left at the auto parts store, at the fifth set of lights, make that sharp right, then where the road forks, take the middle through the bank parking lot and across the river – it’s really just a stream – do you have four-wheel drive? . . . “
We started out early on with maps. For those younger readers, those were printed versions of what you now see on a computer screen or your phone, showing the route you will, with any luck, be following. Printing out driving directions was the next “great leap forward”. We had many interesting conversations using these. They usually went something like this:
“You’re going to turn left onto Buffy Boulevard, so get in the left lane.”
“Is this Buffy Boulevard coming up at the lights?”
“I don’t know – I have no idea how far 800 yards is, and there’s no street sign.”
“Well, I’m now in the left lane, so I have to turn left.”
“I don’t think this is it. It seems too soon. Can you get over?”
“I suppose so, if I cause a six car pileup.”
“OK. Just stay in this lane, and we’ll have to get back to . . . . . . “
If our technology stuck to “half a mile”, we’d be ok. When they say, “in 8,000 yards, make a double u turn and await further instructions . . . “, that’s when they lose my navigator. As a golfer, I can visualize 400 yards – that’s a par four. My wife, however, has no idea. That could be a football field or L. A. to San Francisco. Our interactions typically takes on an edge of anxiety as we try to get back to what we mistakenly thought was Buffy. Our communications tend to elevate in volume. Anyone, usually our daughter in the back seat knows now to keep quiet and pretend they’re not even in the car. In a ideal world, of course, all streets would be straight, and crisp right angles would lead us right back to where we wanted to be. In reality, not so much. Six turns and across three streams, we’re now hopelessly lost. Plan B, the corner store right ahead, with the very nice man that’s only been in the country for about two days. He resorts to shoulder shrugs and pointing in both directions.
The advent of the GPS is really a great thing. I like the way it tells you exactly where to turn, which lane to get in, and it provides lots of info ahead of time. It saves the “I think you wanted to turn back there, but I wasn’t sure.” The electronic version never second-guesses itself. Nor does it take on an air of disapproval. “Is this left? I distinctly told you left. Now, I have to recalculate. I don’t have time for this.” In our car, I have what I call Assisted GPS. That means that my wife holds the phone and in a tone not quite matching the electronic one, provides added emphasis and reinforcement. There is a distinctly light, bubbly atmosphere when we’re in a city, particularly one we don’t know. We’ve mixed in a level of pedestrian traffic usually going against the lights and taxis, in and out doing what taxis do best – ignoring the rules. Once we had a taxi driver in DC do something I’ve never seen before. He pulled into the right turn only lane – and I knew he didn’t want to turn right – pulled into the middle of the intersection, and then backed up in front of the lead car in the middle lane. As best we could, we tried to pretend we weren’t actually in this taxi, and prayed the light would change before we were smashed to bits by cross traffic. I swear I’m not making that up. It really happened. Ok, I’ve digressed.
The great advantage of somebody’s focus is on the phone screen, and thus is not fully able to emphatically let me know a) when traffic ahead is stopping, should I wish to do the same, b), I am too close to cars in other lanes, or c) I need to get around that truck ahead of us because she can’t see down the road. There has been a time or two when she’s resorted to slapping the dash because words failed her. My navigator also has an impressive repertoire of sharp intakes of breath and use of her “air brakes”. With the highly successful use of Assisted GPS, our conversations are a bit more like this:
“It says you want to turn right at the intersection onto Wilberforce, then get into the left lane.”
“I turning now – this must be Wilburforce, isn’t it?”
“I really can’t tell. No, wait. It’s recalculating.”
(That’s OK because there is no left lane anyway.)
I'm Thinking...No! 