Travels With George

Updated last: 5 June 2013.

As a traveling companion George took some getting used to but now we consider him fondly and follow him more or less faithfully.  George is not a human, even though we talk regularly.. He is a Global Positioning System (GPS) mostly for the car.  With George, even when totally lost, we can still find our way.  Usually. Now.

George's full name is George P. Schultz (GPS). He is named, obviously, after the avuncular statesman who served both Richard Nixon and Ronald Reagan is numerous posts, including stints as Secretary of Defense and State.  Our road warrior battle cry is, "Let George Do It!"  Usually.

The first time we used George was very nearly the last.  Camping out near Dulles Airport the night before a flight, we set out for a late dinner at a restaurant somewhere in the urban tangle of Northern Virginia.  Spouse Carol, a former resident of these parts, was driving while I was riding shotgun.  The Hopkins, who were friends when we ventured out, were in the back seat.

"I have a general idea where this place is," Carol announced.  George said, "Recalculate.  Prepare to turn right in half a  mile."  Carol said, "That doesn't sound right," and went straight in half a mile.  George said, "Recalculate.  In 400 yards turn back!" 

A half hour of milling about smartly later, George and Carol were thoroughly frustrated with each other.  We pulled over under a street lamp and I reprogrammed George. Correctly, I'm certain. "Now," I said, "Carol, do exactly what George says."  Carol promised, and we set out anew for the restaurant.

"This looks familiar," a Hopkins said 20 minutes later.  "We're near our hotel."  Almost immediately, in front of our hotel, George proudly announced, "You have arrived at your destination."  We ate satisfactorily at the bistro across the street from our hotel and turned George off for about a year.

I am directionally challenged, a homebody and slow to adopt the new.  Carol gets out more and began to use George to find new addresses.  She reported steady success once used to the fact that George did not know about the main entrance to our community.  Or perhaps he just preferred sneaking out the back way.

Mostly we learned about George's quirks by using him to get to known destinations.  He showed a distinct preference for interstates until we found the setting that changed his mind.  He and Carol were frequently at odds over the best way to go.  I stayed out of these fights because I had no clue who was right.

At times George seems almost human.When his satellite signal is obstructed, for example in tunnels, he exclaims, "GPS signal is lost!" in tones a pilot might use in a fog seeking the runway lights with fuel running low.  One of his favorite expressions is an exasperated, "U-turn when possible."  We are a trial to him I know.

But frustration flows both ways.  Once when he announced that we had arrived at our destination we saw before us only an end-of-the-road barrier fence, beyond which was a railroad track crossing and a hint of a road long ago abandoned.  In the distance was an open air pavilion which proved to be where we wished to be.  Another day we knew just were we were headed and how to get there, but let George ramble on.  After a few moments of "U-Turn where possible," and "In 100 yards turn back," we pulled up at home.  George intoned, "You have arrived at your destination!"

We went on a long driving trip that took us from our central Florida home to as far north as the Canadian maritimes and as far west as Batavia, Illinois.  We took George of course, but also had a complete set of AAA maps and tour guides plus a binder full of Map Quest printouts.  George was most helpful in finding motels in the dark.  But with all that prep at our backs there were times when we had to do the unthinkable: stop and ask for directions. Travel, like old age, is not for sissies.

The most recent episode starring George was the most bizarre.  We were in a medical complex looking for a new doctor's office, when George suddenly ordered a recalculation and took us off in a new direction.  "Lets see when he is up to," I said.  We were early.  But when we made the fourth tight left turn in a row, a certain unease set in.  As a former programmer of old fashioned computers, I knew what a loop was.

On the eighth left turn in a row, we stopped and called the doctor's office for directions.  After the appointment Carol and a friend went on a planned trip and I prepared George to return home.  Damned if George didn't take me back into his loop-the-loop.  I turned him off and made it home alone.

George has been off since.  I am concerned about his mental health. To be fair, we have not treated George as well as we might.  He has never been fed an update for example.  We are looking into that, and with proper nourishment we hope to have him back on his game in no time.

5 June 2013.

It is with profound sadness I report the demise of George.  He was with us for about five years and we were used to each other.  I am uncertain about the proper ratio of GPS years to human years, but it was probably time.  We have not needed to buy a replacement for George.  We are listening to Siri now.  It's a  little disconcerting when we talk back to Siri and she slips us a zinger in reply.  Insanely great, Mr Jobs.