The Drive There or My Dad and His GPS

Hoping for a good night's sleep was apparently too much to ask. My daughter woke up at 3:30 in the morning to go to the bathroom and I never fell asleep again. Alarm went off at 5:00.

Dad made us breakfast while I showered and got dressed and then woke up my little one (who of course had fallen right back to sleep after the middle of the night bathroom visit).

I got everything repacked, into the car, and just as Dad was about to get into the car, he asked, "Do you think I should bring the GPS?"

Me, internal voice: Oh, please no, not the GPS.

Me, out loud voice: I don't think we need it, but I know that if I tell you NOT to bring it, you'll spend the whole drive talking about how you wish you'd brought your GPS, so go ahead and get it.

Dad had the grace to laugh. But he got the GPS anyway.

Apparently it doesn't matter if we have the GPS or not; the conversation of the entire drive with the GPS is about the GPS. I don't think I ever posted much about the drive that he and I took to California for my last event, but he also insisted on the GPS for that trip, which is nearly 1000 miles on I-5. I got a little tired of the "continue 127 miles on I-5 south, then keep left to stay on I-5 south" and finally demanded that at least while I was driving, it be shut OFF. Especially since we both knew the way to my sister's house by heart.

But he loves his toy, and he put up with me when I was a teenager, so I suppose this is some kind of mild karmic revenge (very mild, considering what a brat I was at times).

In any case, today's trip was not much different.

Here is a rundown of our conversation/locations:
(Bottom of his driveway)
Dad: Do you have the address?
Me: No, but I know where we're going.
Dad: I need an address to put in my GPS.
Me: Actually, I tried to find one online and had problems getting a specific address.

(1 mile away)
Dad: Maybe I could enter the name of the coliseum.
Me: (pretending to focus on road)
Dad: Do you spell coliseum with one "L" or two?
Me: one, but now that you said it, I'm questioning it and I don't know any more.

(2 miles away)
Dad: Well, it can't find it with 1. It must be 2 "Ls." (pause with beeps of button pushing on the GPS) DOGGONE it, now I've got to start all over.

(3 miles away)
Dad: Turn left here.
Me: Are you sure? We've always gone right here before.
Dad: Yes, this is shorter.
Me: Okay, but you're going to have to tell me where to turn.
Dad: Don't worry, the GPS will tell us.
Me: Oh, so you got it entered?
Dad: No, but it will figure it out.

(5ish miles away)
Dad: Huh, it can't find it with two Ls either. I'm not sure what to look for.
Me: Try the stadium instead.
Dad: How do you spell the name of the stadium?
Me: H-E-R-E-N*.
Dad: Are you sure there isn't an "I" in there?
Me: Yes, I'm sure.
Dad: I really think there's an I in there.
Me: I hope you know this road, because I'm going to be really annoyed if I miss my race because you can't find directions on your GPS to a place that I knew how to get to if I went my own way.
Dad (clearly not listening to me): Maybe if I just type in the name of the city...
*This and other location-specific names have been changed. You know, in case someone I don't already know in real life reads this blog.

(10ish miles away)
Dad: OKAY! We've got it now.
GPS: In point one miles, turn right onto Dallas Road.
Dad: Up here, you need to turn right onto Dallas Road.
Me: We're already ON Dallas Road.
Dad: Oh. Hmm. That's weird.

(as I pass an intersection)
GPS: Immediately turn left to stay on Dallas Road.
Dad: Okay, I think the GPS has it now.
Me: I know it's dark, but if I hadn't turned left, I would have gone into a field. So far, not thinking this GPS is being very helpful.

(15ish miles away, and at least 10 additional instructions from the GPS to turn left/right to stay on Dallas Road where my only other option was to turn into a field or barn)
Me: This road may be shorter in mileage, but I think I prefer the other route because it is straight and you can go 55-60 the whole way. Slowing down to 15-20 miles per hour for a corner every quarter mile is not faster.

(20ish miles away)
GPS: Turn left to stay on Dallas Road and then turn left onto Highway 100.
Me: Okay, the road turns right, so I'm ignoring the GPS. I don't see any place to turn left.
Dad: That's okay, Highway 100 is right there.
Me: Good. At least I can find where we're going from here.

(Entering the north end of town)
Dad: Okay, now let's see if I can find the university.
Me: I thought you found it in the GPS.
Dad: No, I had to just enter the city. Hmmm...oh, it found the university bookstore, I'll enter that!
Me: The triathlon is not starting at the bookstore.
Dad: Well, but it could get us close to where you need to be.
Me: I already know where I'm going to park and how to get there, so you don't need to worry about the GPS any more.
Dad: I've got the bookstore entered!

(about a quarter mile into town)
GPS: At the next signal, turn left on Main street. Then turn left on Highway 100 North.
Me: That's not helpful.
Dad: Huh, I thought the bookstore was on campus. I wonder if they moved it.

(passing Main street without turning)
GPS: Recalculating. At the next signal, turn left on Center street. Then turn left on Highway 100 North.
Me: Again, not so helpful.
Dad: I wonder why it's doing that. Let me see if I can fix it.

(passing Center street without turning)
GPS: Recalculating. At the next signal, turn left on Washington. Then turn left on Highway 100 North.
Dad: I think I'm going to shut this off.
Me: That's the best thing I've heard since we left your house.

I managed to go directly to the place I wanted to park, got some helpful parking instructions from my dad (You'll get towed here!) (No, I won't, it's only regulated on weekdays, look, it's written on the sign!) and only had to walk half a block to get to the registration tent.

I am my own GPS.

And Dad? If you read this, thank you very much for letting me stay at your house, for getting up at 5:00am to support me, the perfect breakfast, and watching my daughter for the whole race. I couldn't have made it without you. But I'm buying headphones for your GPS.