Monday, February 28, 2011


(This entry has nothing to do with the lovely Doris Day, but if my GPS system was personified, she would be a lot like may be this entry has a lot to do with Doris to decide...)

Driving home from L.A. in afternoon traffic, a black convertible sports car whizzed past, blasting Madonna's "Material Girl." The driver of car was a bald African American male, with large sunglasses talking loudly on his blue tooth. His license plate read: 1FunGuy I tried to get past him in traffic to take his picture, but the traffic did not allow it. He must have turned off at an exit, never too be seen again.

I should have known better to leave Disneyland after 2 pm, but I was hoping that a holiday Monday would be lighter in traffic, but of course I was wrong. It seemed that everyone had the day off, and that everyone was either enjoying the dry weather, or on their way home from the long weekend like we were.

"Extreme traffic ahead, recalculating..." my GPS woman exclaimed this almost every 5 miles throughout our journey out of the city. Can you say irritating? Nothing would shut that .itch up..

Let's call GPS woman, Doris.

I have a love/hate relationship with Doris. Sometimes she gets me to where I need to be, and I am very thankful for her company, but there are often times where Doris directs me to places that I shouldn't be, or don't want to be, and places that I never knew existed.

While in Marina Del Rey, Doris took us to a non-existent movie theatre, located in the middle of a lovely condominium duplex, one wrong exit, and a closed restaurant. There was a moment there where I was very tempted to throw Doris out of the window, but I didn't. I think Doris needs to be updated--it really isn't her fault. She does take me to the right place most of the time, but there was a moment there when she directed me off of Hwy 5, to an exit in L.A., looking over the city, where I seriously feared for the lives of myself and my innocent children. It was like being in an episode of Southland. I expected to see gun shots exchanged, or a high speed police chase happen in front of me. AND, still there was that exit Doris directed me to take because of more "extreme traffic" warnings, where she directed me away from Hwy 5 yet again, to avoid the Grapevine, where I found myself driving through Palmdale, onto Hwy 138--Avenue D.

Lovely Avenue D

Avenue D - Highway 138 proved to be a stretch of 38 miles through the middle of nowhere. It's a lovely road of nothing on both sides, only road kill, abandoned vehicles and little more. True there were a few ranch homes there, and some lovely hills in the background, but nothing else. In my daughter's words, "It's a place you are brought to be shot and left for dead." It was also a place where people apparently had abandoned many vehicles. We counted quite a few and we drove past. Who knows what or who was inside of them.. If it wasn't for the fact that I did have a full tank of gas, and had my vehicle fixed and checked beforehand, this place would make me very, very nervous. It's not a place you want your car to break down on.

Highway 138, Avenue D (D for Dead or D for Doris?) is a two lane highway, with slow trucks. One must pass the trucks to go faster---and, yes, I did. I passed 4 trucks, and I swear one of those trucks sped up when I was trying to pass it. Luckily, it was still daylight out, and I was not alone. Seemed like other vehicles with corrupt GPS systems, such as Doris, had directed other motorists in the same direction. It made me feel better while I was dodging trucks to know that I was not alone. I didn't know later that this stretch of highway had nicknames like "blood alley" but I could understand why. After finally getting off of Avenue D, back to Hwy 5, I was very tempted to throw Doris out the window so she could meet her own demise, but I don't throw expensive toys out the window, and it's the only thing that saved her.


Anonymous said...

Blood alley? Uhm, ok, don't kill her but at least spank her.

Coelha :B said...

I left her lying on the car floor, then threw her in the glove compartment. I won't be using her for awhile...

Lori said...

Haha. Poor Doris!
Our GPS is named Nigel. He is very, very posh!