The box containing my Sanyo EasyStreet sat below my printer for two weeks waiting for me to figure out how to program it or upload stuff to it or whatever. It was the "whatever" that kept me procrastinating. Finally I pulled it out of the box, identified the contents and loaded the CD manual onto my computer.
I'm one of those freaky people that reads the manual--the entire manual. I'm the Yin to Carl's Yang in that way. He never reads the manual and it drives me crazy. Anyhow, the more I read about my new little toy, the more excited I became. This thing had bluetooth capability, would allow me to download pictures and music AND would tell me, verbally, how to get from point A to point B. Cool. I still couldn't imagine needing the "navigation" part of my navigation system more than once a decade, but hey, it's like current cell phones which have become glorified cameras/Ipods rather than something with which a person places a call. Except for me. I can't seem to figure out my camera phone and usually end up taking a picture of my foot.
But I digress.
I uploaded the stuff from the second disc and decided to let her tell me how to get home from Hailey's grade school, which is clear across town. As I pulled out of the grade school drive Ms. GPS told me in her slightly snobby, upper-class alto voice, "In fifty yards, turn right." Wow. I could handle this. I turned right, after which she said, "In 275 yards, turn left." Pause until I drove 275 yards. "Turn left." She was prompt. This wasn't the route I would have taken, but I followed her instructions. I had to give the gal a chance. Maybe she knew something I didn't.
She didn't. As I neared my street she commanded, "In 275 yards turn left and arrive at your destination." Pause. "Turn left and you have arrived at your destination." She sounded positively proud, emphasizing those last few words as if welcoming me home. But I wasn't home. I was a block away, so I kept driving.
"Make a U-turn." Right, lady. You got it wrong this time. I turned her off and thought maybe the problem was my small town. Maybe she would work better on the open road or in the big city.
Wrong again. We drove to Wichita this weekend and decided to give her another chance. About ten years ago a highway was built between southeast Kansas and Wichita--a straight shot. For some reason Ms. GPS wanted us to drive about sixty miles north of that highway, travel westward on an obscure Kansas highway and take the turnpike into Wichita, a route that would have added an hour onto our trip and cost a few bucks in tolls. Are Sanyo and the Turnpike system in cahoots?
Every time we ignored her commands to turn, she would pause, then say in a slightly snobbier voice (I swear, she was snobbier), "Follow the course of the road...for a while."
The only time she worked perfectly was in the city. She knew exactly when and where we should turn, even when we came to the strange entrance onto I-235 from Central Ave. However, very few of our customers need nav in Wichita. I grew up in the area, so I certainly don't.
As if the gods were assisting me in determining my need for navigation, I caught this story on the morning news. I couldn't find video to embed here, so you can follow the link below or you can read the following excerpt from an online newspaper. Or both.
http://cosmos.bcst.yahoo.com/up/player/popup/index.php?cl=9976609
OAK LAWN — A Wisconsin man claims he was following his in-car navigational system when he drove onto railroad tracks in southwest suburban Oak Lawn and got stuck. The empty car was struck by a Metra train at 94th Street and Cicero Avenue before he could move it.
...Kaufmann said the 24-year-old driver was obeying his GPS system when he took a right turn onto the tracks and his car's undercarriage became lodged on the rail.
Come on people. Like the lady in the video says: If your
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