THAT DAMN GPS!!!!!!!!!!!!

           THAT DAMN GPS!!!!!

Suzanne Marsh

“That damn GPS!!” I uttered that phrase so many times over my husband’s truck driving career. I will begin by saying I am technologically challenged, the GPS was no exception. The advent of the GPS should have made things much easier for the driver not to mention the ‘professional seat cover’; that’s me. The first GPS entered our lives in December of 2005, it was a Christmas gift for my husband, until the GPS it was the old paper maps, actually those were more accurate than the GPS in some cases. My first mistake was not getting a GPS that is made for big rigs, there are roads that a big rig can not go on the first GPS, a Garmin, was not made for a big rig. Keeping that in mind, we at times found ourselves on roads that we should not have been on, hence the statement “that damned GPS.

The first GPS sounded like a harried blond, with a slight lisp. The first time we used it we decided to call it “Blondie” for obvious reasons. The first load after Christmas vacation we used her, what a mistake that was. Earl had been to our destination before but since we were learning he put in the destination, she began by calculating the distance, her mileage and the actual mileage were off. Earl in his infinite amount of wisdom began to go the way he had been, it was then that the GPS began screaming: “RECALCULATING, RECALCULATING, RECALCULATING” at that point I would have merrily tossed her out the window. “Blondie” was great for finding Wal Marts and great at finding roads that were more like cow paths. We were delivering in Rhode Island, the whole state can be driven through in a few hours. Earl needed a thirty-four hour break, before he could resume driving, we decided to go to a La Quinta Inn in Woonsocket, Rhode Island. A nice comfortable bed that was not going down the road at sixty-five miles an hour, clean sheets and a shower. I called the motel, the clerk after I made the reservation asked if we needed directions. I thanked informing him we had a GPS. The motel was ten minutes away, as long as the GPS did not interfere. We put in the address, we were bob-tailing thank heaven! We followed “Blondie’s” directions to the “T”. We found the road she wanted us to go down...cow path would be a more appropriate term! Earl pulled over to the side of the road, I called the motel. The clerk gave us directions we arrived there in about ten minutes, we passed the cow path that the GPS wanted us to take, it was about a quarter of mile closer to the motel than the road the clerk told us to take, that was a main road, the GPS had us on a dirt road, in a big rig, minus the trailer of course.

After several more harrowing adventures with “Blondie” we decided to purchase a Rand McNally GPS, whose name was “Claudia”, at least she did not spend most of the trip screaming: “Recalculating, Recalculating”! “Claudia” made her fair share of mistakes and wrong turns, she also had a problem with the pronunciation of Shad. Shad Road was where dispatch was located, in Jacksonville, Florida. He put Shad Road and the address into the GPS, the directions were good, until we got to Shad Road, which she kept insisting was “Shit Road”. The first time she said it I thought I was hearing things, I had Earl listen closely she began: “Right on “Shit Road” we stared and laughed at her.

December of 2009 found us volunteering with help from dispatch to haul doubles for FEDEX, Earl had the endorsement on his license but had never pulled doubles. Doubles are two trailers that are pulled by the same big rig, they are shorter than the average trail which at the time was fifty-three foot. Earl received about ten minutes of instruction and we were off on our first adventure that load went to their terminal in Kentucky. Having mastered pulling doubles our next assignment took us to Indianapolis, Indiana to FEDEX’s main terminal. The directions we were given by their dispatch seemed a little odd so once again we followed the damn GPS, and once again we were lost. We saw a main road that looked wide enough to accommodate the big rig but the GPS wanted us to go a little further to the next road. That would not have been a problem except it was a residential street, that thank heaven was also a truck route. We followed the GPS; big mistake. We got to the end of the street, the GPS said it was a tight turn. Tight turn does not adequately describe the predicament we found ourselves in. Not only was it a tight turn there were railroad tracks with a slight rise, then the tight turn. One trail at fifty-three foot would have been a challenge but doubles, I latched onto the arm rest, I think my fingernails are still embedded in that truck’s armrest, I kept thinking about what if’s as Earl began the turn. My biggest what if was clearing the railroad signs but he did, he finally arrived at the FEDEX terminal. Earl asked one of the FEDEX dispatchers about the directions and the GPS he told Earl just stay on the road in front of the building, that would take us back to the main road. That was fine, then Earl decided to use the GPS, it routed him down a street with a height restriction of five feet nine inches, the big rig is thirteen feet six inches, obviously that was not a road we could take. The damn GPS then told us to take the next street over, wonderful, the height restriction on that street was ten feet five inches. Earl saw a sign that went to I65, we followed that and left Indiana a little worse for wear.

The worst scenario for us was getting lost was in Dublin, Texas. We were picking up a load of peanuts. The directions we received from dispatch were not clear; Earl decided to use the GPS, that was the first mistake. The GPS took us down a dirt road, the tractor and trailer barely had enough room on the entire road. We followed the GPS which took us to a large cow pasture, stating that was the address. Now come on a cow pasture, not likely. Earl, decided to try the same scenario once again, and we arrived at the same cow pasture. It was beginning to become dark outside, in the middle of nowhere with bad directions, it was time to panic. I am very good at panic and suggested we call the shipper and find out where they were, we were already and hour and a half late for pick up. At this juncture my knuckles were white and nails clinging to the armrest. We took a different road, this time it was really narrow, we heard a thunk, never a good sound. Earl stopped and got out of the truck, he had broken off a CB antennae right off the truck!

I called the shipper and explained we were lost, using the GPS and simply could not find them. The gentleman that answered the phone explained that in the directions we had received there should have been something stating NOT TO USE THE GPS, it was routing drivers to a cow pasture!.” We had been to the same cow pasture three times before we realized the damn GPS had struck again!