Wandering

If Encinitas isn't God's country, then it's right next door. Which has nothing to do with this story except that I was driving between there and Las Vegas, guided by a relatively new GPS system. The system intrigues me. Well, maybe not so much the system itself as the voice driving it, driving me. I guess I accept the technology that can cram every road, street, avenue, boulevard, highway, freeway, roadway, and waterway of these United States and points beyond into the brain of a 4.5 inch screen.

They even had room to vector in restaurants, banks, post offices, gas stations, and Starbucks along my route. But what I don't understand is how they were able to find the one woman in all the world who will patiently tell me over and over again how she is "recalculating" every time I try to exert myself, show a bit of backbone, exhibit a streak of independence. I mean, is her way the only way? Can she not accept that sometimes there is a shorter route, a faster way? She has been known to make a mistake or two. But will she ever admit it?


So that Thursday morning, 9am, I pulled out of the gas station and turned left (having filled my tank and emptied my bladder) against her instruction to turn right. Her tone was well modulated, dulcet. But is her tone dulcet? Her voice is not sweet, sexy, girlish, or seductive. There is no regional accent whatsoever. The only thing one can say with any conviction about her voice is that it is, indeed, feminine. 

So, she recalculated and directed me to continue eleven point six miles straight ahead even though the entrance to the I-5 freeway was to my immediate left. When the light turned green, I disobeyed and took the on ramp. To her credit, she did not sigh in frustration, nor get angry. She merely recalculated once again. "Continue 12 point 3 miles and stay to right." This time I did as I was told. No use continuing to ignore her. What was the point in having a GPS if you weren't going to allow yourself to be guided by it? Her!

We passed the turn off for the 78, even though I knew that would have been the quickest way to the 215. But I felt I owed her. It was due to my own pg-headedness that she had to recalculate twice within the first minute of our excursion. And still, she stayed with me.
Well, as I stated, she did not get angry. But she did get even! Route 76 was a two lane blacktop upon which I was never to reach the posted speed limit of 55 mph. Orange cones stood everywhere.

Did I mention I had a 2:30 appointment back in Las Vegas? Her detour through this construction zone cost me well over a half hour of precious time.


I am positive she knew exactly what she was doing.

So I was not in the most agreeable of moods when, 2 and 1/2 hours later, I made it into Barstow. Even though I had only used about a 1/4 of a tank, I decided to top it off and once again empty my bladder. I took my first right into a 76 station.

I pulled up to the pump, killed the engine, unlocked my seat belt, opened the car door, got out, unscrewed the gas cap, turned back to the pump, swiped my debit card, and the numbers turned to 000.00. I unhooked the gas hose and inserted the nozzle into the tank, then squeezed the trigger.


Nothing happened.


The pump did not work.


I stood there at first, my finger on the trigger of the hose. Pull, release, pull, release. Still nothing.

Rather than walk into the store and talk to someone behind the counter, I returned the hose to the pump, screwed the gas cap back on, got back in the car, and you get the idea. Reversed all my previous movements. I drove across the street to a nameless, generic, gas station and repeated all my previous steps. This time there was no digital readout on the screen to tell you what to do next. The screen was blank and remained that way. Now I was starting to get mad. I got back into the car and drove to another gas pump and this one had a yellow tape around the hose that said "Out-Of-Order" over and over again.

I think this is where I shouted an expletive.


One more pump. This one worked. Even though now I could see the gas was thirty cents more than it had been this morning I took it. When my task was completed, I parked the car in front of the mini mart. They have automatic sliding glass doors that worked fine for the man exiting the store. But they closed on me. I had to fight to get in. I went to the bathroom without further incident then decided to get something to drink. A bottle of Starbucks latte was double the price anywhere else and I almost didn't buy it, but then decided I was on a sort of vacation. Sort of. So I brought it up to the counter and was charged 45 cents more than the price because I was using my debit card.

Oh, and I missed my appointment.