The exponential speed with which my world has moved, from my Rand McNally Atlas to an internal GPS in my 2020 BMW, sometimes boggles my mind. My car responds to my voice. I just say things like “BMW call my grandson Miko” or, “Find the nearest Starbucks” and presto—zingo I am on a phone call or I’m in dreaded drive through. I don’t know about you, but sometimes I feel like I am living out a Star Trek episode.
Today I want to talk about my “way too smart GPS”. I call it a her because speaks to me in a ‘James Bond like’ sexy accented woman’s voice. She warns me of traffic situations ahead, reminds me to take a break, and will occasionally give me a sarcastic “Well, alright”!!! Many times on this 7351 mile road trip she has bailed me out. One of the really interesting things about “her” is that she has a mind of her own…imagine that. When given the opportunity the guidance system will take unpredictable routes from point A to B.
There is a distinct difference between driving in Colorado and Tennessee. We don’t have that many options between destinations. The further east you go, the more roads from which to choose. We were on our way to Indiana when we had a change of plans. Somewhere in Kentucky we changed course to Vandelia, Illinois—where the Ramada Inn awaited. We asked BMW to take us there and I had no idea that she had back roads in mind.
We were on a lot of state highways. I will admit we saw scenes that are missed at 80 mph from an Interstate. I did get a bit nervous when we were in the midst of a deeply wooded area in Kentucky, that looked like it could have been a backdrop for a scene from the movie “Deliverance”. I was fully expecting to see a guy in overalls sitting on a tree stand, toting a 12 gauge… with a still steaming back in the trees.
More than once, I checked out the route and sure enough— it was skipping the interstates and four lanes for the “scenery”. I took geometry in high school and she was picking the “most direct” route. The Red Bud trees in bloom by the thousands, made the winding roads look like the greeting card isle at King Soopers, or a coffee table book. I know I am a bit of a sentimental romantic, but I never got tired of miles of seeing farms and thoroughbred horses.
There is something very reassuring about hundreds and hundreds of miles of farmland. Food does not come from Costco. The intermittent tapestry of the interplay between miles of wooded hills, and the farmland that has been carved out over the last 250 years, was heartwarming. The opportunity to drive through thriving small towns and those in obvious decay, was a reminder that modernity picks and chooses thrivers and those melting back into the earth.
If I were to try to retrace our route I could never do it. I really have no idea how I got to Vandelia, which is nestled right on I-70. The next day I was back to the Interstate mania, dodging in and out of lanes while hundreds and hundreds of trucks carry our “stuff” all over the country. From that point on, we knew the way home. The GPS had provided us a beautiful side trip, complete with a Beagle walking down a country road proudly toting a whole piece of toast.
One of my favorite poems ever is “The Road Less Traveled” by Robert Frost. My GPS reminded me that what might seem the fastest way is not always the “road of gentle enlightenment”.
Onward and Upward,
Mark
Lyfting Me Up 