To the thief who stole the GPS unit from my vehicle last week, I hope it helps you find your way.

There have been many crossroads in my life where an electronic signpost would have been welcome; where the gentle nudge of a UK Samantha or U.S. Carl robotic voice was needed to sound out the best way to turn.

I have found myself at many a dead end or travelling down a road where the scenery was unfamiliar and the neighbourhood felt wrong. At those times, I have been fortunate to hear a friendly voice speak up and say, “at the next intersection, make a legal U-turn.”

There have been other times when I have drifted off the path and found myself wondering just where I was meant to be. And in those times, I have paid attention when the voice in the dashboard has intoned, “recalculating.”

But there have also been other times when the most direct route failed to hold my attention — where despite the voice that wanted me to hold the course, I have drifted and explored. Down side streets and alleyways, I have discovered secret gems. But I have always been safe in the knowledge that a simple tap on the Home button could guide me back on track.

Most of all, I hope my GPS offers you that button.

I hope that on the way to the pawn shop, you are able to hear the voice that wants to recalculate your route. The GPS is filled with numerous voices to choose from — both male and female. Some are better than others, some clearer, louder or more pleasant to the ear.

You have to make sure to pick the right one. It’s different for everyone and sometimes it takes awhile to discover which is best to cut through the noise. But when you find that special one — Australian Kathy; Canadian French Patrice — I hope you’ll listen closely when it offers clear directions to get you back on the right path and guide you safely home.

 

Views: 25

Comment

You need to be a member of CrimeSpace to add comments!

Join CrimeSpace

CrimeSpace Google Search

© 2019   Created by Daniel Hatadi.   Powered by

Badges  |  Report an Issue  |  Terms of Service