Wherever I May Roam

Until recently, it used to be that getting lost or decrying bad directions was a perfectly acceptable excuse. I know myself there’s been more than a few occasions when I’ve crafted a white lie based on like premises, times when I was looking for a plausible explanation as to why I was late or conspicuously absent . Now, however, with the selection of affordably priced TomTom GPS systems at www.cymaxstores.com, these excuses are becoming decidedly less valid.

The worst part of being “lost”, and in fact the stimulus that often compounds the state of being so, is the initial panic that sets in once you determine you only MAY be lost. This scenario is inevitably worsened when you’re out of your own backyard, in an area that you’re not familiar with, and at times when you’re anxious to be where you’re going. For whatever reason, equivocal thinking seems to go right out the window the very second we start thinking of it.

Years ago when I worked as a bicycle courier I received a most uncommon dispatch, which began with “you have a car at home, don’t you?” After confirming I did the dispatcher asked if I was willing to go home and grab my old Rabbit and take a “super hot” 5 hours up the Island to a small community. It was imperative the package be delivered before 4:30 and it would net me a nice $140 commission.

The drive up the island highway was uneventful, and it didn’t concern me one bit when my 2-way radio went out of range just past Duncan. I had been given a “map” by our front desk attendant at the office before leaving. It was an enjoyable summer’s day drive and I only wished I had some company.

I pulled off into Sayward at ten after four and that’s when things started to unravel and the aforementioned panic started to kick in. I won’t go into detail, but let’s just say the “map” was of such accuracy that it warrants the quotation marks suggesting my using the term very loosely. I tried phoning the base, busy and busy again. I frantically queried probably a tenth of the town of 300 or so. No one knew the address and to make matters worse it turned out to be a home office in a very residential setting.

I managed to find it just in time, by simple luck if I remember correctly, and the recipient was happy to receive it as promised. That wasn’t before my blood was flooded with cortisol, however, and I profanely berated completely inanimate traffic lights. Put simply, it put me in a foul mood that lingered somewhat as I made my way back home.

Had I been so fortunate as to have a GPS system, however out of place that may have seemed in an ’84 Volkswagen, I would likely have been spared such an ill-temperament. At less than 150, a TomTom One 125 GPS unit would have been surprisingly affordable for a meager bicycle courier even. These GPS feature the freedom to download and install a host of different languages and also features TomTom’s Map Share services, which lets you download updated maps from the TomTom community of users.

I’m certain its this initial panic that sets in motion the defensiveness that has fostered the men can never admit they’re lost / can’t ask for directions stereotype. I can’t say whether I myself have refused to admit it but if my radio had been in range, I would likely have responded with a dishonest “yep, almost there” if dispatch had asked of my whereabouts during that frantic half-hour. Justified or not, it would seem that the increasing affordability and commonplace-ness of GPS systems will make that stereotype extinct before long.

The sigh of relief from disinterested pump jockeys across the continent is almost audible.