Dirty Little Secret

When Garmin Girl did not lead us directly to the interstate, I didn’t say anything. After all, we already know that I have issues with the GPS, plus driving around all of these speeding old people makes Hot Guy annoyed enough without my helpful suggestions.

I also kept my tongue when Garmin Girl had us bypass the interstate completely. Just because the ad for the outlets had stated its interstate exit did not mean that the interstate was the best way for us to get there. Still, I began to worry. Garmin Girl is not known for sensible alternatives to the highway, after all.

We drove farther and farther into the Gulf Coast’s interior, which seemed to me a logical place for an outlet mall. Land would be cheaper and no one would be distracted by a good view. It sort of looked like Kansas with palm trees. Except soon there were less shopping centers. My mother was the first to voice her concern about our location. By that time, though, we were nearly there.

Or so Garmin Girl said.

Garmin Girl felt that the outlet mall was on the dirt road to the right. Not even the paved version of the road on the left, not for Garmin Girl. That’s when I thought about Dad programming the GPS for us. And how, of course, you have to program the town before you can program the street name. I asked Hot Guy if Garmin Girl would search for a street name in the nearby towns too.

Apparently Garmin Girl is not able to that, she searches one town only. Get the wrong town and you wind up at the end of a dirt road surrounded by swampland. Which mom and I were totally open to exploring, but Hot Guy and the kids not so much. So, while I did find the correct route to the correct place on Garmin Girl, we mostly followed MY directions to get to the outlets.

Because unlike Garmin Girl, I can synthesize information. And use logic.

Thankfully, Hot Guy finds these skills sexy.

Hot Guy is willing to do whatever she says. Without arguing, or even grumbles. In fact, if I contradict her, he grumbles at ME.

She’s skinny, too.

And she’s easily annoyed.

Whenever Hot Guy listens to my directions, she snottily says, “ReCALculating.” Like we’ve pissed her off.

She’s Hot Guy’s favorite Christmas present, the Garmin Nuvi GPS. As if I’d let some other woman tell him what to do. As if he even listens to me, except maybe where directions are concerned.

I grew up around here. Which makes me smarter than Garmin Girl, who actually thinks getting on the highway is the answer to everything. I want to tell her, “This is Jersey, bitch. You’re taking your life in your hands every time you get on the highway. Stop telling us to get on the damn highway when we can use back roads and get there just as fast.”

I may have a problem with authority.

I may also have inherited my father’s penchant for using the most scenic/least trafficked/strangest way to go anywhere.

And did I mention that I grew up around here?

So I have a hard time listening to the Garmin Girl. In fact, when I’m driving she’s not allowed to talk. Though I am secretly entertained each time she says, “ReCALculating.” I swear she sounds pissed, like we’re inconveniencing her in some way. I like to see how long it takes her to figure out the way I’m taking us.

Am I weird?