A meek mild-mannered writer takes a not so mild mannered vacation!

This has happened to me before, so it really should not have surprised me. But I had hopes that just maybe this would be the time that Garmin would not hate me.

Nope, no such luck. Garmin hates me. Utterly and completely. Garmin simply hates me.

Usually, whenever we take a trip, we share the long highway driving hours, but once we get to the fiddly bits as we close in on our destination, I take over navigating while hubby drives. We both generally prefer it that way.

The joys of Garmin?

I can hear you asking, why do we need a navigator when there are nifty navigation apps like Garmin and Google?

Have you ever had google maps tell you that you need to turn left in 1000 feet and you’re six lanes to the right in congested traffic that’s doing 80 mph in a 55mph zone? After one too many rounds of that, we decided a human navigator was necessary accessory to the navigation apps.

Admittedly, I have a love-hate relationship with navigation apps. I learned to navigate when I was in high school on a family trip to remote places that weren’t really on the published maps. Frequently I only had xerox copies of hand drawn maps which were frequently WRONG to go by. Trial by fire, baby—it is a way to learn things FAST. And I did. Have map, will travel, and get there, eventually at least.

But things have changed now. Enter the disembodied computer voice telling us where to go. With the advent of navigation apps, you really can’t find a useful paper map any more. So, we have to settle for what ever electronic map our apps provide, usually on a tiny phone screen that only shows you bits of the trip at a time—generally not as much as you’d really like to know.

Usually I’ll program in our destination and let Garmin choose the route. I watch the road and the electronic map and make sure that we don’t miss anything. And this is where the trouble begins and the way I know Garmin (Google and every other navigation app) hates me.

Back roads, ok, but Cow Trails?

He/she/it/we/they inevitably chooses every country road, dirt path and cow trail, sometimes justifying it by saying it will save one minute travel time. Really? Really? Save us time? Maybe if we drive the road downhill in a 70mph tailwind with absolutely no other cars (or cows) on the road. But otherwise, no not so much. More likely, we find ourselves playing chicken with local drivers in pick-up trucks on roads too narrow to accommodate their truck and our family van, and there’s no shoulder on the road. Oh, and our van doesn’t do off roading well either a quick detour off the pavement could result in rather a long stay.

Why does our Garmin seem to intentionally pick routes that resembling nothing so much as the setting of a Stephen King novel—Children of the Corn anyone? I’m not joking—we actually planned the first half of a horror story we called ‘No Trespassing—violators will be shot’ based on the roads we were traveling. (Yes, I know that’s a weird traveling game, but what do you expect while traveling with an author?)

Did I mention how much I detest little one and a half lane roads with so much stuff growing on either side that you can see nothing but corn—or wheat, or sometimes weeds. Seriously, driving like that makes me nuts. I’m sorry, I’m a city mouse, not a county mouse. Ten lane highways in rush hour—fine by me. But surrounded by impenetrable walls of green and brown, ah, no just no.

It’s a Conspiracy

Naturally, the moment I place the navigation app in my husband’s hands, it extends a magical handshake and politely asks which of five possible routes does he want to take, including routes entirely by interstate! Did it do that for me? Were those controls even there for me? No and NO. Absolutely not. In my hands the game trails were the only possible way to get to our destination.

Though in retrospect, it is just possible that Garmin doesn’t so much hate me, but was trying to warn me. Knowing our destinations, maybe it was trying to give me hints about what we were getting ourselves into, warning me of what was coming up by the scenery it was showing me. Perhaps Garmin doesn’t hate me. Maybe he/she/it/we/they was trying to help me, save me from myself as it were.

And now I’m not sure which possibility worries me more.