GPSing

David got himself a GPS for Father's Day and so naturally I took it with me this weekend to Arkansas and back. I'll skip the obvious laughs inherent in communicating with what is essentially a talking satellite. How I was determined to go one way and she sent me another. How I drove parallel to I-30 for about 40 miles before she relented and mercifully sent me toward the interstate (not onto, only toward, as she kept trying to get me to go down unpaved county roads. Disregard the GPS at your own peril.)

Satellite 1, Human 0.

What I found fascinating was the estimated arrival time. Here was a little screen telling me exactly where I'd be at 2:38 that afternoon if I just kept driving the speed limit and followed directions. I didn't, of course. There was the aforementioned detour, and then there was heavy rain, followed by lunch, and a stop for gas and snacks. Each time, my future was reset. I kept getting to my destination later and later. I wondered what happened in the other timelines, the ones where we didn't stop at Chili's, or it didn't rain as hard. Did I meet a new friend? Evade a serial killer? Have a wreck?

Most likely I got to my parents' house twenty minutes earlier and had that much more time at Walmart later in the day, but where's the fun in that?