Dear GPS

Dear GPS,

   I’m leaving you behind.  Don’t get me wrong.  I remember how you made the navigation out of the Philadelphia airport to New Jersey seamless.  The nasty tollbooth operator wasn’t your fault.  I also remember the way you guided me around that traffic accident in Nashville.  You save me an hour in commute time, at least.  But there was that time in Atlanta.  It’s still hard to talk about it.  That was one scary route through town.  We both know it was only the grace of God that saved us on that one.  And really, was it necessary to sound so condescending when I made that wrong turn in Memphis?  I still recall the frustration when you made me drive the same 1 mile stretch a road for half an hour looking for that road you insisted was there even though I told you (loudly and repeatedly) it wasn’t.  So this time, I’m leaving without you.  I want scenic routes; you prefer the highway.  I like detours and side trips; you get snippy if I don’t do it your way.  So this time, I’m going it alone.