GPS

My friend John was completely self-absorbed. He was always doing intrusive things like insisting I feel the fabric on his authentic Detroit Tigers jersey, or forcing me to sit through a soundboard recording from the most recent Phish tour. His house was filthy, too. His furniture lay beneath a wasteland of pizza boxes and fast food bags. You'd have to move an empty take-out container or fountain drink cup just to set something down.

The most annoying thing John would do, though, was trick me into driving him around town to run his errands. He’d lost his driver’s license after multiple DUIs, so for most of our college careers, he didn’t have a car.

It’d start off innocent enough. He’d invite me over to hang out. We’d shoot the shit and watch TV. But before long, he’d ask me to take him to the store to grab a couple groceries––you know, since he couldn't drive, and a man's got to eat. Then, after what would inevitably turn into an hour-long marathon grocery spree, he'd ask if I might also mind driving him to pay his cell phone bill––you know, since we were already out. After the cell phone store, he'd need to swing by another friend's houses to retrieve the DVDs he'd lent out, and so on. Before I knew it, I'd spent the entire afternoon driving him all over town on his personal errands.

I fell for this trick more than once.

After we graduated from college, John landed a sales job, and was frequently out of town on business. This was a welcome reprieve from the constant barrage of favor-asking and imposition I’d become accustomed to. We both became so busy in our post-grad lives that we only hung out every couple months.

One year for my birthday, John gave me a GPS device that he picked up while on a sales trip in Japan. I kindly thanked him for the gift, but informed him that I didn't really use GPS devices anymore. My phone had an app that I used for directions. He told me that this one was special, and that the guy who sold it to him said that it was the best one on the market.

Whatever. I still wasn't impressed. I ended up stashing it somewhere in the depths of my closet, along with all of the other gifts I’d been given over the years.

Last summer, John died in a car accident. I’d never had one of my close friends die before. I missed my buddy.

This past spring, I got a new job that relocated me across the country. While packing for the move, I came upon my box of unused gifts and decided to toss them. But when I came across the GPS device John had given me, I decided to hang onto it.

After moving into my new place, there remained a few household items that I still needed to get. As I climbed into my car to find the nearest Home Depot, I decided that instead of using my phone, I’d use the GPS John had given me. In a weird way, it’d be kind of like having John right there in the car with me, telling me where to go just like old times.

I plugged the now-primitive piece of technology into the cigarette lighter and powered it on. It beeped a couple of times, and the screen lit up. After performing a couple software updates, a robotic female voice spoke up.

"Hello. Wherewouldyoulike... to go today?"

"Take me to Home Depot.”

"I'm so-rry,” the device replied. “Please enter... your... desired lo-ca-tion."

"This thing's a piece of shit," I muttered, using my phone to find the address. Once I found it, I typed it in and began receiving directions from the monotone, choppy-voiced woman.

"In one-hundred feet... turn left onto... Orchard Avenue."

I started playing with the settings to see what other options were available. Thankfully, there were other voices to choose from. One of them was called British Guy.

Well that could be interesting, I thought. It'll be like having a butler give me directions. I selected it, and was greeted by a polite male voice.

"Good day, sir," it said in a cheery, British accent.

"Hello, British Guy," I replied. "Do you still have the address I typed in?"

"Why certainly, sir. In thirty-seven meters, please kindly turn left onto Hesperian Way."

“Ugh. This one's kind of lame, too." I began scrolling through the voice options again. The next voice was called Your Buddy.

Now, I’d seen GPS devices before that had a woman's voice, and even ones that had a British voice, but I’d never seen one that had a buddy voice. So I selected it, and was greeted by a familiar sounding cadence.

"Sup bro," the voice greeted me.

"Hey, man. Not much," I replied.

“Sweet. So where we headed?"

I looked back down at my phone to find the address again. “I'm going to Home Depot. It's on 3727 Industrial Drive."

My request was met with what sounded like a long, drawn-out sigh.

"Honestly, bro, I'm probably not going to remember that. Can you just type it in there on the screen?"

I typed the address into the GPS, and Your Buddy spoke up again in an excited tone.

"Oh, yeah. I know that spot. I've been there before. You're gonna want to make a right up here."

"I'm sorry, where?"

"Uh, up here. You see that yellow sign?"

"Yeah."

"Just past that. Then, uh, you're gonna make a left in a couple blocks, I think."

"Where?"

"Uh, let me think. Is there an Arco station on the corner right there?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, cool. I know where we are. Just go up like two lights and make a left."

A moment of silence passed, and then Your Buddy spoke up again. "Hey do you mind if I put on some music? I just got off Phish tour. I've kind of been on a Tweezer kick."

"Uh, I don't have any Phish. Sorry."

“Oh, no worries. How bout some Dead?"

"No, no Dead either," I replied. "All I've got is som-"

"Oh shit," the buddy voice interjected. "You were supposed to turn back there."

"Back there? I thought you said at the light?"

"No, sorry. That was it back there. My bad. Just turn around in this parking lot up here. I got it now. We're good."

I turned the car around and began heading back the other way. We made it about a block before Your Buddy spoke up again.

"Hey, do you think you can swing through that McDonald's right here? I haven't eaten since this morning."

I was a little confused by this request. "Uh, how exactly do you eat?"

"I don't. Just set it on the dashboard. I like to smell it.”

"How do you smell? Actually, don’t answer that. I keep forgetting I'm talking to a––“

“Hey!” Your Buddy interrupted. “Did you just pass that McDonald’s?"

"Oh, yeah," I replied. "Sorry about that."

"Aw, man. Do you think you could turn around and go back? I'm really hungry."

"But I thought you just said you don’t––you know what, forget it.” I scrolled back through the voice settings. “Bye, Buddy. Try not to take it personal."

After a moment of silence, the British Guy spoke up.

"Good day again, sir."

"Hello again, British Guy. You still have the address?"

"Of course, sir. In seventy meters, turn left onto Kensington Lane."

"Thank you, British Guy. You know, you're a lot less obnoxious than that last guy."

"Why thank you, sir. I do so appreciate the compliment. And I'm terribly sorry for any inconvenience you may have suffered during my brief holiday."

"No problem, British Guy." I turned onto Kensington Lane, enjoying the momentary silence, when the British Guy spoke again.

"Pardon me sir––and so sorry to trouble you again––but your friend wants me to ask if we’ll be stopping at McDonald's."

I sighed. "No, British Guy. We're not going to McDonald's."

I slowly reached my hand towards the GPS and pressed my finger down on the power button. "Sorry, John," I said as I ripped it from the dash.

I rolled down my window and tossed the GPS onto the side of the road, but in the back of my mind I somehow knew that wouldn't be the last I'd ever hear from John.