i am a butterfly…

Yes, I took my I photo that long ago and I’m finally now getting around to posting it.

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As I write this, I have my GPS unit connected to my laptop to update her maps.* The map update is necessary, because as we drove around in New Jersey this past weekend, we often found ourselves driving off the map due to various construction projects on the exit ramps of the Garden State Parkway. So it really is necessary, but I confess to a small pang of regret. The regret comes from the idea that this update may cure Gurty’s unique outlook on getting places.

There’s a saying from ancient Rome, about how all roads lead to Rome. In Gurty’s little electronic mind, all roads lead to, and from, downtown Newark.

She once took us from Colonia, NJ to Fredon, NJ by way of downtown Newark.*** Go on and look at Google Maps. You can see that this is not exactly the most direct route. Later that same night, she also took us home to Da Bronx by way of downtown Newark. On another occasion, we were looking for a gas station before we returned a rental car to the Avis counter at Newark airport. This time, at least I can say we were headed toward the city of Newark, but Gurty eschewed all rest area service stations, intent on taking us to downtown Newark for gas. She would brook no deviation from this plan, so eventually we gave in and let her have her way.

We had a near miss on Saturday, when we took a right side fork in the road toward the Turnpike while she gleefully told us to turn left. Left, toward the sign that read: Downtown Newark.

It’s not just Newark, though. She seems to be exceptionally fond of the scenic route. The route less taken. The route that wends through the middle of nowhere or goes 30 miles out of the way.

We had an example of this on Saturday, when we left a friend’s house in NJ and decided to take the new car for a drive. We headed up the Parkway into New York, trying to avoid the horrendous northbound traffic we’d seen on 95 earlier in the day. Our plan was to drive north for a while until we hit the point of no return for Gurty, the point where she would no longer tell us to turn around and take the George Washington Bridge. Around Harriman, we judged it far enough and turned her on. The first thing she did was tell us to make a U-turn and head back to the GWB.

Ignoring that advice, we kept driving until we knew that heading east would take us to the Newburgh-Beacon Bridge. A nice big bridge that would take us back to our side of the Hudson River, where surely Gurty would then find us a nice route home on the eastern side.  But because Gurty is insane and probably a small bit delightedly evil, the first thing she did when we got over the bridge was tell us to take the first exit and turn around. For the first 10 or 15 miles on the eastern side of the river, she kept trying to convince us to turn around, go back over the river, go south, and take the GWB.

Eventually, we managed to convince her that we wanted to keep going east, so she changed tactics. Fine, she said. Go this way, she said. Go on, keep going east and east and east, until you hit 684. “684?” I said to Scott. “Wouldn’t the Taconic be better?”

At this point, I checked Gurty’s settings, because one time I had her set to pedestrian mode, and what a load of laughs we had following her directions then. But no, she was set to automobile mode, and also set to take the fastest route and to not avoid highways.

We decided to take the Taconic. At first, she was thrilled. She thought we were turning around and finally taking her advice to go back over to the western side of the river. When she realized we were actually starting to head south, she became upset. “Turn left!” she shrilled. “Turn left! Turn left! Turn left!” We kept turning right. She sulkily informed us that she was recalculating and stayed silent for a while.

Scott and I were now on solid ground as far as knowing where we were and we could have turned Gurty off at that point, but I always think she’s going to choose a better route than one we already know. I give her way too much credit. So we left her on to see what she would say, and she suddenly had an idea. “Take the next exit,” she slyly suggested. I zoomed out and saw that she wanted us to exit so we could take her original plan and go to 684. We ignored her. For 10 more miles, she kept suggesting that we should take the next exit, head to 684, and arrive home at 10:01.

We ignored all her pleas, whining, and cajoling.

Finally, when she had no further choice, she grudgingly allowed that we should stay on the Taconic  and take that route. As soon as she recalculated for this route, the route we wanted to take all along, she gave us a new estimated arrival time: 9:50.

11 minutes earlier than her plan.

That was the final bit of evidence it took to convince me: she’s crazy. Scott and I decided that we kind of like that, though. It’s sort of charming, how insane she is.

“It’s not the best thing, though,” I said to Scott. “You realize this means we can’t trust her? It’s fine when we know where we’re going, but we have to be vigilant when we don’t.”

“Yeah,” he replied. “But she’s always ready for an adventure! That’s good!”

“True. And at least we know we’re not those people who will drive into a lake because the GPS told them to. We can never trust her enough to mindlessly follow her directions. So… bonus.”

Whether or not she’ll retain her insanity after this map update remains to be seen, but I hope Gurty’s still keen on adventures. I could do without all the trips to downtown Newark, though.

*Yes, she’s a she, not an it. She has a name, too. Her name is Gurty.**

** Gurty comes from GPS, because it makes me think of GURPS. Gurpy didn’t seem like a good name.

*** On that same trip, she also took us through downtown Morristown.

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