|Proof that we made it to Sam's Club|
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Wednesday, November 28, 2012
A Trip to Sam's Club
“In one thousand feet turn left,” said the feminine voice of my smartphone’s navigation system.
“My GPS shows that we keep going straight,” said the feminine voice of the wife in the seat next to me.
“We need to go straight for two point three miles.”
Like any man who has been married for any length of time, I chose to listen to the wife. We went straight.
The Navigator said, “Make a U turn at the next intersection.”
“We need to make a left onto six twenty,” came the countermand from the passenger seat.
Having missed that intersection, the GPS directs, “Make a U turn at the next intersection.”
“You were supposed to turn back there,” came the wife’s instructions.
I said, “But you said to turn at six twenty. I didn’t see anything that said that was six twenty.”
“Okay, now we need to keep going for seven and a half miles,” came the exasperated voice next to me.
To which I responded, “How can we keep going straight for seven and a half miles if we were supposed to have turned back there?”
“Seven and a third miles, now,” replied the wife.
“Rerouting. Continue straight ahead for seven point one miles,” said the Navigatior.
Okay, this hasn’t been word for word of our journey into Round Rock today. However, sit is true to the essence of the trip. In the end, we reached our destination but I have no idea as to how we got there. I’m quite certain that it was circuitous route. I have an image from the cartoon “Family Circus” where little Billy is asked to go to the mail box and the dotted lines show that he has jumped a fence, climbed a tree, played ball with a friend, splashed in a puddle, petted a dog, talked to the neighbor, rode his bike, dug a hole and returned to the house without going to the mail box. That was what our Global Positioning Satellite was seeing from space of my attempts to find Sam’s Club today.
Getting home was a piece of cake. We pulled out of the parking lot onto the entrance ramp to Interstate thirty five got off onto highway twenty nine and followed it home!
Next time … next time … I’m not listening to anybody but the voices in my head.