Blankety-Blank GPS WC 298

Blankety-Blank GPS

I was trying to get back home to Arizona. I’d had a lovely visit with my family in California, but it was time to leave. I had a six-plus hour drive ahead of me and was exhausted from the three-day visit.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” my daughter, Cindy, asked.

“I’m fine,” I fibbed. “And, I’ve got my trusty GPS.”

My family waved goodbye as I disappeared down Ave Gaviota.

I turned on my trusty GPS; it faithfully led me to the I-5, which led me to the 91. There was a lot of traffic, brakes squealing, horns honking, and middle fingers raising as I made my way to Interstate 10.

My GPS alerted me that there was a road closure on the 215 and that I should follow the detour route.

So I did.

It led me in circles. In my rearview mirror, I saw a caravan of vehicles behind me.

I wanted to yell out my window, “Oh, don’t follow me, I’m going in circles.”

At one point, as I circled the same cul-de-sac for the third time, I looked into my trusty followers’ faces; I saw anger, disgust, and many middle fingers. I could imagine what they were thinking. “Why are we following this old lady...with Arizona plates?”

“Yes, why are you?” I wanted to shout.

A resident of the neighborhood stood on his curb and flagged me down. I rolled down my window.

“What are you doing here? Again,” he said. “Everyone is following you.”

“I know. We’re trying to get to I-10. For some reason, they think I know the way.”

He instructed me.

I followed his directions and my caravan ended up on I-10 eastbound.

I got home safely thanks to the kindness of a stranger, not my blankety-blank GPS.