DRIVING
Driving is a very personal experience. Outside of marriage and kids, the relationship with one’s car is probably the most significant. It’s certainly one that can test patience and stamina.
I have a love-hate relationship with my vehicle. I like it fine when it behaves and does what it’s supposed to do. I’m ready to kick it to the curb when it doesn’t. Sort of like how I feel about men.
“Libby” (that’s my pet name for my Jeep Liberty) has her moods. And I’m attentive to them. I have maintenance service performed precisely every 3,000 miles. She gets washed once a month. When she requires new tires or windshield wipers, she gets them pronto. So I view it as a personal affront when she is just plain ornery, like when she stalls on the freeway in rush-hour traffic.
To be fair, that last break down wasn’t Libby’s fault. While I was driving, a livestock truck suddenly swerved over to the side of the road. The doors flew open, disgorging a mass of squealing hogs. I was forced to rapidly down-shift to avoid them. That’s when Libby stalled. Thankfully, there were no injuries, but all that wasted pork was front-page news.
Even though Libby and I are mostly on good terms, it makes me crazy when something is wrong with her – crazier when I can’t prove it. I know what normal noises Libby makes. The noise that sounds like a coffee grinder can’t be good. But when I take her to my auto-repair guy, he finds nothing wrong.
Libby runs fine. No problem, for him. I have to sit through his grimy smirks and “Hey lady, you don’t know what you’re talking about” looks. Then he hands me a bill for hundreds of dollars for diagnosing operator-error. Back on the road, Libby is good for several miles before she commences making that coffee-grinder noise again. Yup, I know who’s the boss.
Driving is much easier with the advent of global positioning system (GPS) navigation devices. No more cumbersome paper maps that I can’t read or refold correctly. No more bathroom desperation getting to get to the next rest stop. I just punch in the directions on the GPS and I’m on my way. My trusty GPS persona never gets cranky or mad when I make a pit-stop. And when I get tired of listening to him or her, I just hit the “mute” button. How perfect is that?
Of course, there are a few caveats. One is I need to have the latest maps loaded into my GPS device. Otherwise, my GPS can get lost and show my car traversing a forest or lake. Another is it can lose the satellite signal in a tunnel or parking garage, or if there are sun spots, or a large flock of geese or UFOs flying overhead.
I’m also very disappointed in the choices I have for verbal directions. I can choose my GPS person’s gender, region and language. But I’d really appreciate some nuances. Like why can’t I choose a husky, beefcake male voice with an Australian accent?
Someone who can say, “Hey Sheila, sorry to have to tell you this, but you missed the turn at Lee road. It’s probably my fault, love, for not warning you more emphatically that you were about to miss it. I hate you’ll have to go out of your way now, darling. And it’ll take more time. What can I do to make it up to you, sweetheart?”
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