I Named My GPS 'Sweet Alice'

*** continued from previous post ***

Now that the familiar part of the trip was behind us, the time had come for me to test out my newest toy.  Our shiny, new, (RoXor - I told you I liked refurbs) GPS that we had mounted to the console of the bike a mere week before our trip.  

I had long lusted for this unit.  If you do not understand the term 'techno lust' you are no daughter of mine.  And I'm not speaking of the feeling that comes over you at a Rave from too much 'punch' and the pounding beat of 'The Crystal Method', I'm speaking of the romance of gadgetry.  The seductive world of chips and processors and memory and astronomical pricing for first-adopters.  God I love technology!  I think I now understand, and I'm generalizing here, some women's insanity for shoes.  Or maybe not.  That's just weird.  

Anyway, back to the object of my current adoration.  The GPS was a thing worthy of adoration.  Full color touch screen, its voice integrated with the speaker/sound system on the Vision - all the bells and whistles.  The epitome of our technological civilization.  The pinnacle of Homo Technus.  A miracle really, think about it - I could have saved us so much time if I'd had a GPS when you were small.  No more getting lost for hours.  No more tears.  No more frantic calls asking someone if they perchance knew where in the Hell we might possibly be.  I was giddy as a lotto winner, (not a Megamillions winner - somewhere around a $5000 scratch-ticket winner), as I plugged our destination of Galway Bay, British Columbia into the unit and watched, with fascination, as me lover-ly, lover-ly rudimentary autonamaton plotted our course.  

My enthusiasm lasted about 30 minutes, whereupon, somewhere in the godforsaken badlands north of Ritzville, I had a minor breakdown and heated argument with the GPS.  No kidding.  I had set the GPS to a female Australian voice.  She was hot.  I named her Alice.  Sweet, sweet Alice.  As difficult as it to believe, my innate sense of direction was failing me that day, (I know!), and before you could say 'dust bowl' we took a wrong turn, then another.  My precious was not amused.  That little floozy got sarcastic in a hurry.  I may love technology, but I hate uppity machines.   

*** the journey continues tomorrow ***