The miracles of modern technology, by Pat

The Navigation system in the van has been a great asset on a long trip like this. You punch in the next destination, even if hundreds of miles away, and you are delivered there within yards. All one has to do is obey the strident commands of the female-voiced computer.

I do think that, on balance, the invention of the Nav system has saved countless marriages. I firmly believe that women are smarter than men, for many reasons. One of those reasons is, the guy always insists on driving. There is no upside to that. But that traditionally puts the woman in the dreaded role of navigator when it comes to long trips.

Although women are generally smarter than men, they cannot read maps as well (probably because they do not spend hours poring over them for no reason, like men do.) Women are especially not good under duress when the male pilot, cruising at 70 mph, says something like "We are coming up on three exits in a half a mile. Do we take the 664 bypass, which has no other exits for 23 miles, or do we take 464 through the old Norfolk tunnel, or do we take 64 toward Virginia Beach?" [5 second pause] "WHICH ONE DAMMIT?"

Connie and I had our first experience with this map problem on our honeymoon in Italy. We started our trip in Milano. We had booked our first few nights at a downtown hotel near the Duomo and La Scala. I assumed that these world class venues couldn't be hard to find from the airport. My bride assumed I knew what I was doing. There is a saying about assume and ass and you and me but I dont remember it anymore. We have been married for 20 years.

We got our rental car at the Milano airport, which like most airports is not located anywhere near its namesake, and they gave us a handy map to use. On one side was a map of Italy, which would look like Italy if photographed halfway between earth and the moon. You could see the boot shape and the Sicilian football, so by having this map, you knew you were in Italy. On the reverse side was a map of a handful of city blocks downtown. Fortuitously, this included the Duomo, La Scala, and our hotel. So this confirmed that the places you wanted to go were in Italy also. Between the NASA scale map and the downtown walking map scale, there was no way to figure out how to get from outer space to the hotel. These days in the U.S., this would be considered a Homeland Security innovation. But back then, it was just a crappy rental car map. So I turned to my jet- lagged map-holding bride and said "Which way?"

Anyway, our trusty Nav system has served our marriage flawlessly for nearly 3400 miles so far this trip until we got about 30 miles from Sedona. Then, I think the Hopi, Navajo, Hualapai and all the collected spirits of this spiritual place decided to teach me a lesson about technology.

First, although I knew I had to take 89A south off of I-17 as soon as I got off of I-40 west ( I have been here before), the Nav robo-woman told me in no uncertain terms to continue south on I-17 for 4 more miles. It showed me a graphic map of this shortcut. So, even though I knew where I was going, I fell for this techno seduction and took the shortcut. Upon exiting 4 miles south, it went through its routines and instructed me to turn broadside into a gas station. There was no road at all here. The machine was insistent. At any deviation it urged me to follow its commands. I defiantly backtracked 4 miles north and cursed my deference to this machine when I knew where I was going anyway.

Once we got into Sedona proper, I didnt know where our hotel was so I let the machine tell me again. Note that my wife is happily watching me get frustrated now that the tables are turned. Now the techno woman is telling the man what to do and you cannot win the argument against a techno woman either, although at least they do not bring up long-past transgressions. The machine tells me to turn into a nearly invisible driveway blocked off by cones and dug up by backhoes.

Mapless, I obey. We drive through a major construction site, now shut down for the day, and I see some vestiges of a resort ahead. What have I signed up for here? But I finally pop through the other side of the site and we are in a beautiful place. The resort is horrified when they see we have bounded through this ugly construction area, which is theirs and which they had intended to conceal. I look up at the magnificent sandstone, limestone and basalt mountain, tower and cliff formations looming all around us and I feel like the Native spirits have taught me a lesson today. Forget the technology.

It always feels good to press the "Cancel Guidance" button on the Nav anyway. She never talks again, unless you ask.