Driving with Justin

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Justin is my voice, turn by turn, GPS unit, formerly known as Edward. When I realized that Edward sounded exactly like Justin, my tax accountant, it just stuck and now he will forever be, Justin. (The GPS, not the tax accountant. Well, actually he was the tax account first, but  … oh never mind.)

Today I realized I had sunk to a new depth of loneliness when I decided to power Justin up to ride around Idaho Falls with me. I had just left my manicurist’s and decided to have lunch. I put in the name of my favorite sushi place and headed down the road. All was going well as Justin announced politely in his smooth British accent, “go two miles and turn left on Pancheri Drive.”

“Why, thank you Justin.” I chirped, “You are in a good mood today.”

As I turned left on Pancheri, Justin politely announced that I should continue on 17th street. That’s when things turned ugly. I drove under the overpass and turned right on Rollandet. Not the route Justin had planned out for me. Justin quickly announced in that cheeky British tone, “Recalculating. Turn left on 18th St.” I felt the right corner of my mouth turn up in half an evil grin as I whizzed right by 18th St. I waited and pictured Justin as he carefully set his cup of tea down, pinky extended, and with polite English arrogance he announced, “Recalculating. Turn left on 19th St.” Now the left side of my mouth crept up into a full on Evil grin as I blew by 19th St. and waited for Justin to make his move. Sure enough, he announced, “Recalculating. Turn left on 20th St.” I could see the beads of perspiration begin to break out on his little computerized brow as he struggled to maintain his proper British demeanor. Now I burst into a full open, tooth filled, maniacal smile as I blew past 20th street and tried to contain my glee while I waited for Justin. I am sure I heard him sigh as he said, “Recalculating. Continue on Rollandet and turn left on Sunnyside.” It was at this point that I shouted out with exuberance, “Yes, yes! That’s right you cheeky little Brit! I’m not going to turn just because you tell me to with your deep, manly, sexy British voice. Ha, that’s right! I am in the driver’s seat! You might have access to all those satellites, but I have hands and they are on the wheel and I am driving baby! If you think I’m driving down 17th St. traffic just because you told me to, well you better get your circuits lubed!” Suddenly, I knew I had sunk to a new, kind of weird and scary level of loneliness coping.

I arrived at my sushi place. Brian, the manager, brought me something wonderful. Because that’s the relationship we have. I tell him to bring me something good, and he does. (Without the British accent however.) I returned to my car and powered on Justin. I looked at his handsome LCD screen and asked, “So, Justin, where shall we go?” I swear I heard him reply with thick British sarcasm, “How should I know. You’re the one with hands! So, drive!”


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