My hometown of Las Animas, Colo., boasts one stoplight, the adjacent larger town has three, and I can get around most Colorado cities, to the airport, the Denver Stock Show and other regional arenas just fine. If I’m not exactly sure, I have some great paper road maps. So presently I can’t see the need in my life for a GPS system in my car or hubby’s pickup yelling at us with all kinds of information about where we’re going and what to do.
Admittedly, it might be handy when we’re cruising through Albuquerque on our way to Las Vegas trying to navigate the “mousetrap” type interchange to catch I-40 west, thus, we might welcome a soothing voice telling us to “merge right” at that one point where there are six lanes to choose from. And I suppose it might help driving in Las Vegas, but really, we have the routes from our hotel, to the gift shows, to Thomas & Mack and back again memorized quite nicely, thank you!
But for those road warriors who battle the high roads, the low roads and all the interchanges in between to the rodeos, I can see how they’d come to love them. Son K.C. has listed their advantages and relates that he gets lots more sleep now after an all-night drive because he can punch in the route for the rookies who are driving and avoid those endless interruptions about when/where to turn off. In addition to letting the GPS guide them to the rodeo arena, it shows the driver where gas stations are and helps them to turn off early enough to make the truck stop, restaurant or rest stops for letting the horses relax. It’s a godsend, in his estimation. And I’m sure that’s true as I recalled some of the back-tracking that’s happened when he slept through a wrong turn, like the trip home from the college finals when the traveling partner missed the turn and K.C. woke to find themselves 100 miles north toward the Canadian border.
That is not to say a GPS system is fail safe. Recently, the connection to the cigarette lighter malfunctioned and so did the beloved GPS system, affectionately known as “Yappy.” Of course, it was already past grand entry time as they searched for the confounded arena and found themselves floundering around with no paper map, (like good old Mom and Dad would have had), so they nearly missed getting to run their steers.
Daughter-in-law Gayle grew up in a large, metropolitan city in California where she was quite adept in navigating the city, but the streets, by-ways and roads in and around Ft. Worth and Dallas often proved too much for her. After several years of calling K.C. on her cell phone for help in finding her way (he was usually in Wyoming, Colorado or some such place,) he presented her with a GPS for her birthday. Since this was before he owned one for himself, he thought his problems would all be solved not realizing that “&%$#*” (the name Gayle un-affectionately gave her system) could often lead her astray.
I experienced one of these adventures with her on a visit last summer as we traveled to some barrel racing jackpots. We were marvelously guided by the system as we shopped in Dallas, and since it was my first experience with GPS, I was suitably impressed with our ease in navigating the interstate and city streets during the hour it took us to get to “our destination.” And we did fine getting from her home to the first arena in a neighboring town (one or two stoplights) but she already knew the way. However, she’d heard of an easier route to Waco, our next destination, so she was confident we could navigate it with “&%$#” to help us. Before we’d even left town, it gave us some bad advice to “exit left at the next intersection” which would have led us to a blind alley. Luckily we saw it in time to see the more obvious intersection where a state road took us out of town. We jauntily traveled along the rolling Texas plains without a sound from “&%$#” until we got to Waco and searched to find “Waco Arena” or “fairgrounds” or something—anything—to help us find “our destination.” “&%$#” would have no part of it since the official name is “Heart of Texas Fair Complex.” In fact, just now as I tried to recall its name I found that googling “Waco Arena” produced nothing, so I found it by googling “Texas Circuit Finals Rodeo” which I knew was held there.
At any rate, having been to the “complex” before, Gayle knew approximately where she was going but wasn’t entirely sure on this new route. She recalled some of the eating establishments near the “complex,” punched them in, and sort of with “&%$#’s” help, we got there, even though “she” violently protested when we passed up the McDonalds yelling, “exit left — you have reached your destination,” followed by, “exit right and make a u-turn, to arrive at your destination . . . (pause) . . . RECALCULATING . . .RECALCULATING . . . RECALCULATING,” until we turned the thing off.
For our drive to dinner before bedding the horses down for the night, we drove in peaceful silence since Gayle knew exactly which eatery was her favorite, but finding our hotel room was another challenge.
Gayle confidently told “&%$#” the hotel chain’s address where her reservation was, and away we went, up and down the streets of Waco as we were told “exit right,” “bear left,” “merge in 1 mile,” “exit here—exit there” followed by, “you have passed your destination” RECALCULATING. . . RECALCULATING . . . RECALCULATING. We finally arrived at an empty lot next to a dilapidated convenience food store bearing the near address of our hotel, so Gayle gave up and called the hotel’s phone number which “&%$#” kindly provided. We were informed that there used to be a hotel at that location, but that it was now at such and such location. Although reluctant to give “&%$#” another shot, she punched in the correct address and we were guided to “our destination!” As we pulled up an hour and half later than we’d planned, Gayle remarked, “I wish just once ‘&%$#’ would say something like, ‘Good job—you have successfully arrived and you did it so well.”
When Gayle’s system was being installed, somehow the voice got turned onto British rather than American, so to add to her continual frustration with “&%$#’s” voice, she get’s to hear her directions from a rather formal, stiff-sounding person. Boredom on the road and the continual interaction K.C., Gayle and the traveling gang experience with their GPSs have resulted in some comedic reflections. They’ve decided they’d like to be able to choose certain voices rather than just plain “English.” For example, they opined, one could get the Redneck version where the voice would say “Git ‘Er Done” rather than “Proceed . . .” Or it would say, “Make a u-turn in the bar-ditch, stupid, you just missed the turn” rather than “You have passed your destination ... RECALCULATING!” Perhaps you could have an annoying spouse, back-seat driver voice saying “You lunkhead, I told you to turn back there” or “What are you waiting for—let’s get this hunk of junk down the road” in place of “Proceed forward.” Most of all, Gayle would like a pleasant, “Oprah-type” person urging her along with “You’re doing just fine—keep on this lane—you made that turn quite beautifully—you’re doing great!” I’m sure that’s what I would need, too!
So here’s to you and your navigational system—whether it’s a live person or a dispassionate voice from a box. May you always arrive easily at “your destination” down the rodeo road!
Las Animas, Colo. —
