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SUNDAY JOURNAL

A one-track mind, indeed; now shut up

By BARBARA MOCH
Published October 1, 2006

I've always loved car travel. My husband and I loved nothing better than taking off in the car, always with a destination in mind, stopping when and where we wanted, taking the long way, the short way . . . whatever suited our fancy.

As a single woman now, I'm not that confident. But when one of my friends suggested we try an Elderhostel tour in North Florida, I decided to do it. Bette would drive up from Florida's east coast, I would drive from the west coast and we'd meet in Fernandina Beach on Amelia Island.

My daughter Robin gave me her GPS - "Lily," as she later became known, for her proper British accent - a week before the trip so I could become familiar with the technology. This satellite-based navigation system stores a unique address for every square mile on the planet. And it couldn't be simpler to use: Type a city into the touch pad, then the address, then "go" and you're on your way.

I tried it first on my daily trip to work, a 10-mile drive from Sunset Beach on Treasure Island to downtown St. Petersburg, a fairly direct route on main streets.

Right away, Lily didn't know the Treasure Island bridge was closed. She routed me there, and when I wouldn't make the left turn she recommended, instead turning right to another bridge, she said (stiffly, I thought), "Recalculating." She then graciously directed me to the Corey Causeway bridge. Right on.

She neglected to tell me to turn right on First Avenue S, the smooth, uninterrupted route I usually take, directing me instead to turn right on more congested Central Avenue, but I went my usual way. Lily would have none of that. She reproached me with "Recalculating" again and again. I didn't know how to shut her up. She persisted on the drive home, again directing me (obstinately) to Central Avenue.

We learned to get along better on my trip to Amelia Island. Once I got to I-275 (after only a few "Recalculatings" when I insisted on going my way), she said, "Turn right in 148 miles."

Whew. I could relax.

Just not at the rest stop where I pulled in.

Lily again chimed in: "Recalculating." Sorry to cause you extra work, Lily, but this stop is necessary.

When I got back in the car and turned on the ignition, I touched "My Favorite Destinations" on the GPS screen to remind Lily where we were. Of course, we were off her intended route, so she started directing me onto secondary roads, but as soon as I reached the on-ramp to I-75, she settled down.

My exit was No. 374, which didn't mean much to me until the signs started popping up along the road: "We Dare To Bare," "We Bare All" and "Couples Welcome." Well, I was getting off at Exit 374, but I wasn't stopping at Cafe Risque.

Now off the interstate, Lily guided me through the little towns. Starke, Waldo, Lawtey. "Turn right in .5 miles, veer left in .8 miles." She didn't warn me about the steadily decreasing speed limits, but some things you just have to do for yourself. I can read signs and there were plenty of them, not to mention a police car or two.

When I arrived at my hotel in Fernandina Beach precisely at the time posted on the GPS screen, Lily proudly announced, "Arriving at your destination" and guided me to the driveway "on your left." Very good, Lily. Impressive.

Lily was less impressive when I programmed in a local restaurant the next night. I knew where the restaurant was, but my sense of direction is not highly evolved and I wanted to avoid making wrong turns in an unfamiliar area. Lily seemed a little confused as well, not realizing I was already on the right street. When she finally did set me straight, she put me on the wrong side of the street. "Arriving at your destination."

Bette thought Lily might have had one too many before-dinner drinks.

One more little disagreement occurred as I neared home. Lily told me to "turn left in 1.5 miles" on a stretch of I-275 that I know well. There is no exit on the left until you get to I-375. I was curious, though, and was prepared to follow her instructions just to see what she had in mind. I was on home turf now and knew I wouldn't get lost. As the 1.5-mile point neared, she corrected herself - "Recalculating" (somewhat embarrassed) - remembering that our exit was 7.5 miles on the right.

Those glitches aside, I felt confident with Lily beside me. Even if her route might not be the most direct, she would get me there. And she had infinite patience when I refused to follow her directions. I'll just have to learn to turn her off, as I don't have the infinite patience to listen, even to her lilting British accent.

Is there a GPS in my future? Yes. I named her "Emily."

Barbara Moch is an editorial assistant at the St. Petersburg Times.

[Last modified September 29, 2006, 11:02:31]