I’m kind of in love with my GPS. When I was working as a reporter on the Isle of Long, driving down backroads to find fires, murders, and government officials getting DUIs, it always got me where I needed to go. But recently, I think it may have turned on me.
It always had its little quirks. Like it takes a really long time to find a signal. And it goes to night vision pretty early in the day. But in the past few months, it’s begun to turn on by itself (without being plugged in) and start talking to me. What’s more, when this happens, the GPS usually begins giving me directions to a place I did not program in, and no matter where I am, that place is always at least 2 hours away. What other conclusion is there? My GPS is definitely trying to kill me.
I rack my brain trying to figure out why my GPS would want me dead, so much so it makes me think of that part in Forgetting Sarah Marshall where Russell Brand is all like “how can a mobile phone have its own agenda?” Well it can, and it will. I’m thinking this all stems back to when we first got the GPS, and we programmed it to the male American voice, “Richard.” My dad hated it so much, by the end of the car ride he was loudly referring to the GPS as “Dick” (well played, Denny). We went through several other voices (like the British female which dad liked too, too much) until we landed on male British voice, “Tim.” I love Tim, in a totally not-creepy, “I know he’s electronic” way. But I feel, I really do, that Richard, his ego bruised and beaten, is somehow trying to enact his revenge by getting me to a desolate destination and off-ing me. It’s a very real fear.
So, if you’re expecting me anytime soon and I don’t show, call the police immediately. Tell them the tale. They’ll believe you, I’m sure. This can’t be the first time something like this has happened.