more car ding-a-lings

I heard the ad on radio today advertising Lexus’s voice-activated navigation system on some or the other model. The first thing that comes to mind involves something about a significant other ‘inadvertently’ blurting out, “Do you know where you’re going? Are we lost?” My normal response is a measured “Sure baby, I just got turned around.” All of a sudden the dashboard lights, and a disembodied voice replies, “No, he doesn’t know where you are and he won’t ask for directions.”

[dashboard light dims and system shuts down]

That doesn’t seem so helpful in the end – a smartass navigation system that always takes her side. Maybe I choose not to use the so-called navigation system. All works out fine in the end because after a few miles I recognize where we’re at and I know exactly how to get where we’re going. I turn and say, lovingly, “Right. Now I know where we are, I recognize that building [squinting and pointing]. We’ll turn right at the next block and swing around to the Interstate.”

[light on dashboard fires up...]

“As if turning right there will get you to the Interstate. He recognizes that building? That phrase has never before been uttered…”

[dashboard light extinguishes with a chuckle]

I don’t need that kind of heartache…I can read a map.

While I was waiting for the plane out of Reno on Friday afternoon, sitting at an empty gate down the terminal from my packed departure gate, a young girl pulled out her violin and gave it a good practice. Her mother was either her teacher or simply a talented parent; she had her run through her scales followed by a couple of lovely tunes. The most natural musical instrument demonstration that would happen in an airport, while you’re traveling and miserable, is more likely to be some yob yanking out a trumpet, kazoo, or snare drum just to further irritate people. Maybe it would be a guy busting out his guitar and practicing his version of Good Riddance – that would be so painful. This was beautiful to hear as I struggled through the crossword puzzle…I’m not always horrible; good things can happen in airports.

Corey and I attacked X’s bike last night in a miserable attempt to mount her rack and fenders. How hard can a few nuts and bolt be? Yep. Great.

T.