September 15, 2008

Surprise! I Have GPS on My Phone! And I Can’t Find My Way Home

Hey, news flash! I have a GPS in my cell phone!

Now, my guess is that your response to that opening will pretty much sort you out by age. If you are under 30, it is probably, “Well, duh!” If you are anywhere between 30 and 50, the chances are you said to yourself, “Interesting. Maybe mine does too. I think I’ll go check.” And if you’re around my age, over 50, you probably were thinking something like, “Geeze, I don’t remember applesauce giving me so much gas!”

For those of you who are not real familiar with this bit of 21st Century technology, a GPS is a device that can show you exactly where you are on the planet. And if you let it know where you want to go, it can tell you how to get there. Kind of like a map, only it makes an odd sort of “crunching” sound if you fold it up wrong.

My first GPS experience was a couple of years ago, with one built into the dashboard of my brother’s car. At that time, integrated GPS systems were not as common as they are now. But since my brother has never owned a car that was less technologically advanced than an F-18, I was not particularly surprised to see the very latest equipment staring back at me from just north of the surround-sound stereo.

I was surprised, however, at how cool the thing was. My brother programmed in our trip – an operation the details of which I largely missed because I was busy playing with the power windows – and we were off. As we rolled along, it was kind of like watching a Pac Man game. A little rectangle, presumably our vehicle, sat in the middle of the screen, while the street, presumably the one we were on, scrolled past under us. I could see the side streets and the cross streets all around us, but there did not seem to be any of those little ghost-thingies anywhere.

And then the GPS started talking to us. “Turn left, one quarter mile,” it would say in a calm female voice. Then, in a little less than a quarter of a mile she would weigh in again with “Turn left, two hundred feet.” And then, at exactly the right moment, “Turn left now.”

After we made our turn, the GPS did not bother to congratulate us. Sticking strictly to business she immediately said, “Now proceed straight for seven miles.” This went on for quite a while, until I was beginning to consider the GPS a friendly and knowledgeable traveling companion. Good old “G.”

The problem came when my brother, who had driven to our destination at least a thousand times and knew every inch of the trip blindfolded, decided to take a shortcut to beat some traffic. As he turned off the highway, “G” said calmly, “Incorrect turn.”

My brother ignored her and kept on going. “Incorrect turn,” she said, and I was sure I could hear her voice rising slightly. “Go back now!”

This kept up for a while, and I could tell “G” was getting upset. After she said, “For the love of God, please go back! I’m begging you!” I said to my brother, “You know, maybe we should go back. She seems to know what she’s talking about.”

Instead, he switched “G’s” power off, turned on the radio, and drove us blissfully on to our destination.

Then, about a year ago, my wife and I were in Pittsburgh for my nephew’s wedding. Since Pittsburgh is a notoriously difficult city to navigate in, and since I’ve been known to get lost in a good-sized bathroom, my brother loaned me a portable GPS he happened to have with him.

The first time I tried to use it, I immediately wished that during my previous encounter I had not been quite so fascinated with those power windows. This one didn’t talk, but I spent a lot of time poking buttons and looking at messages like “Acquiring satellite,” or “Your desired destination is in Bangkok, Thailand – Y/N?”

At one point I thought I had it dialed in and operating until, trying to go from one point to another in downtown Pittsburgh, we wound up in what I’m pretty sure was just outside of Hog Knuckle, Tennessee.

At least, having driven all over western Pennsylvania while watching the GPS and trying to avoid falling off a mountain or running over a sexy dancing welder (that’s a Flashdance reference – you older folks can explain it to the kids), I figured out why they call the thing a “GPS.” It stands for “Going Pathetically Slow.”

Interestingly, when we were in Japan, where drivers are completely unfamiliar with the concept of “slow,” I noticed that every car has a combination GPS/TV gizmo positioned next to the steering wheel. Japanese drivers might occasionally consult the GPS to find their way around, but they mostly use it in TV mode to watch game shows while they are driving. I think this is to keep their minds off of the fact that they are careening toward oncoming traffic down a two-way street that is about 18 inches narrower than two cars side-by-side.

And now I’ve discovered that I have my very own GPS, built right into my cell phone. I’m excited! I think I’ll learn how to use it – right after I figure out how to turn off that You Light Up My Life ring tone.

Copyright ©2008 Michael Ball. Distributed exclusively by North Star Writers Group.

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