 |
| Source |
These days it seems like everyone has some type of GPS system. A couple of birthdays ago (pre-iToys) I splurged on a shiny new model because nothing says lovin' to this gal more than a tech toy. Its cartography would take me anywhere. I was in my element--personalizing my colors, my view, my car, and of course the rumble of my Scottish GPS MAN'S voice. I called him Bruce. The Monsieur and Bruce did not get along from the start. The Monsieur is a staunch advocate of paper maps, common sense and sheer willpower. I'm not directionally challenged and my type A tendencies usually mean that I've memorized 3/4 of the route before leaving, but I prefer to not have to stop to look at a map when in doubt. Bruce was a nice voice of confirmation until that fateful day....
We were on our way home from a place I had visited before. I had taken another route the previous time and decided to try finding it again instead of following Bruce's route. He started his usual ranting about thinking we should have turned at that last road and that we should "chuck a yoo-wee" (u-turn) at the next roundabout. When we didn't, he acquiesced and suggested he find an alternative route. We weren't paying much attention to him at this point when all of the sudden, and in a very clear voice, Bruce said : "B*GGER!"
I nearly screeched to a halt. The Monsieur and I looked at each other in disbelief. Did he just swear at us?
By golly, he did. I guess I'll just turn Bruce off next time. The fury of the GPS scorned....
