Auto Pilot

On our recent trip to Maine the first week of August, Mrs D. acted as my navigator. I'd consulted Google Maps in advance of our departure, and printed out the directions even though I pretty much knew the route. We were up with the birds to get a head start on the traffic and make it to our destination well before 5pm to check in without any problems.

Things started off well. There was next to no traffic to Montreal. And crossing the border took less than 15-20 minutes. Our first real challenge was finding a spot to stop for breakfast and go pee. We'd bought a couple of large coffees in Rigaud, Quebec and we both seemed to be on the same schedule for a bathroom break. Funny how the driver's speed tends to increase when he has to go to the bathroom.

I had to be careful about my speed, as my navigator pointed out once or twice (okay, I'm being kind) because my speedometer was in kilometres and, of course, in the States the mileage signs are in miles per hour. Anyway, we pulled off the I-89 in St Albans, Vermont and found a gas station to relieve ourselves. However, we could't find a restaurant. Next stop Burlington, but the restaurant we chose was full. So further on down 1-89 we went, my navigator telling me which exits had restaurant signs. We finally found a little Vermont town, off the beaten track that served one of the best breakfasts I've ever had.

Back on the road, my navigator actively engaged to direct me to I-93 S to Portsmouth, then to I-95 N to   US 1 N From York, Maine to Ogunquit. Thanks to my human GPS, and my kilometres per hour approach to American speed limits, we'd checked in and were on the beach, drinks firmly in hand by 3pm. Not bad.

"Those bikers are from Sherbrooke, Quebec!" - Thanks, GPS.

Of course we had to buy tires in Maine because my front ones were bald. MY GPS told me I should have changed them before we left. And of course my GPS lost her driver's licence on the beach. She was going to take care of the drive home but that was not to be. So guess what? More GPS all the time we were there and all the way home.

And this GPS doesn't stop at directions. It editorializes and talks back. "Watch your speed!" "Don't get too close to that car ahead of you!" "The outlets stores are up on the right, you need to change lanes!"

Remember that movie "Forget Paris" (see what I just did there? remember/forget?) with Billy Crystal? He takes his dying dad, Arthur, out in the car who reads off all the street and store signs including "You asked for it, you got it, Toyota!". Yeah, that was Mrs. D. Except, of course, she wasn't dying. And we didn't see any Toyota signs.

And I really got my money's worth because my GPS also worked outside of the car - in between trips.

My GPS takes a break to review the wine list.

You know, I looked to the best of my ability but simply could not find the "off" switch.

Oh, well. I can honestly say that trip wouldn't have been the same without her.

The upside is, of course, I didn't have to pay for my GPS.

Not like I'm gonna pay for this post!