Tell Me the Way to Go Home

Last year or thereabouts, I’m sure I amused many of you when I chronicled yet another of my many misadventures in technology when I went to upgrade my smartphone. One of my big complaints about my now antiquated iPhone was that I could never get the voice commands to work on my navigation app.

And for once it wasn’t just me.

My far more knowledgeable offspring could not figure out why the stern maternal commando was doing her best impression of Marcel Marceau, and neither could the geniuses at the “Genius Bar.”

So in surrender, I exchanged it for Carmine red colored stylish ‘Droid, which gave me the choice of several free navigation applications.

About this time, my phone wasn’t the only thing in severe need of an upgrade. 

Our Honda Accord, the trusty station car which basically transported my children from the time they were strapped into infant carriers and car seats, to the point where they were driving said vehicle, finally began to show its age. So we opted for a German import which had the e-dashboard feature of synching up your mobile phone.

Perfect.

Right?

Well, not exactly.

Once synched up, again my phone’s GPS mimicked a mob witness taking the Fifth Amendment, which is not helpful when you’re trying to visit clients in New England and have trouble distinguishing between Waltham and Wakefield and instead wind up on a route to Nashua.

This time I figured it out – sort of.

Apparently when the Blue Tooth setting is on, my phone is hands free, but the GPS goes silent. Turning that feature off reactivated the familiar female drill instructor, but conversely, I risked getting a citation of having to physically hold my phone should someone want to get hold of me.

So I again turned to folks far smarter than yours truly. 

When told of my dilemma, the technicians at the auto dealership sounded like a contestant stumped on Final Jeopardy and my wireless carrier’s support line left me on hold for 20 minutes before I hung up in disgust.

So I am on a technology quest of sorts once again.

Fortunately I didn’t need GPS when I drove my mother in law to the airport after a brief visit. That route I’d been rehearsing and re-rehearsing for a week.