I will never buy a GPS

Well, April and I made it out to San Angelo with relatively no incident, except for one that will forever remain a secret between the two of us and Amy, who was so tired when I told her I'm sure she doesn't remember it.

The same cannot be said for the return trip yesterday, a trip that without a doubt shaved 2.5 years off my life and added countless gray hairs.  It also answered a question I've been asking myself for about a month, that being whether or not I wanted a GPS. 

I would now like to issue an official statement:

Scott, don't worry I will never spend your hard earned money on a GPS.

I have my reasons, one of which includes taking some road no one's ever heard of or traveled on out in West Bumble, Texas, bypassing Abilene without bothering to tell me, us having no gas because we planned on getting some when we went through Abilene, a tiny bit of panic in the car, and then that panic turning into something just shy of rage directed at GPS Lady when she had us turn onto C.R. 406, a pleasant, single lane dirt road and telling me to drive on that same single lane dirt road for 20 miles.  Another reason was April having to wake Brandon up really early and yell talk in a shrill, panicked voice, while I called my dad and used the same exact voice to have him try and calculate just how many more miles we could go once the low fuel light came on.  Another reason?  Me resigning myself to the fact that we were indeed going to run out of gas, that we had no idea where we were in relation to the rest of North America, and that in order to save my life and April's life I was going to have to walk for several miles and knock on the door of the first house I found and beg for either gas or a zip code.  In flip flops.  And oh yes, there was also the thing with the cow.  

The other reasons I'm not going to mention because there are so many bad words involved that I would have to edit out I'm afraid you wouldn't be able to understand what I was even trying to say.  

We did manage to get back to I-20, where there are many, many gas stations to choose from should you begin to run low on fuel.  Yes, we eventually hooked up with I-20 in Shreveport.  Louisiana.  Roughly 442 miles from where we started.  

I am placing the blame for all this directly on GPS Lady.  You have no idea the feelings you experience when you are lost in West Texas with no gas trying to find a gas station and GPS Lady tells you to turn through a fence and into a pasture.  There was no road.  And the screen shows a nice big yellow road and she's screaming "turn left now" and April's screaming "we're all going to die, there's no hope" and the only thing you can think about is the movie Cast Away.  And then since there's no road there you have to take the next best thing, a stupid, single lane dirt road.  For 20 miles for crying out loud.  Oh, the feelings.  Just thinking about it now gets me all choked up.

So now I'm completely untrusting of the GPS.  I will never be sold on them.  I just don't think I can ever truly forgive and forget.  I will forever be haunted by the sound of GPS Lady's voice saying "recalculating...recalculating" followed by the shrill laugh used by people who have let the taste of raw power go to their head.  

Things like this happen and I'm inclined to spend money, just to make me feel better.  I'm thinking about buying myself some of that Custom Lasik.  As if yesterday wasn't bad enough today I found out that my eye prescription is such that I am considered legally blind.  Woo freaking Hoo.  Next I'm buying lottery tickets.