Why I Don’t Ask for Directions Anymore
Dorothy Rosby’s humor column thanks the GPS voice that ended a lifetime of asking strangers for directions.
Dorothy Rosby ·
Dear Voice on My GPS,
It’s no exaggeration to say you’ve changed my life and it’s high time I thanked you for it. You see, I was born without one of those internal compasses some humans and most animals have. Oh, I did my best to compensate. I made it a point to travel only with people who knew where they were going. When I traveled alone I’d leave hours early to allow myself plenty of time to get lost and be that way for a long while. And I was never too shy to ask for directions. Then I’d have to ask again because I didn’t understand them the first time.
I learned long ago that just because someone can get themselves to a certain place doesn’t mean they can explain to somebody else how to get there. Especially if the somebody is me.
Some people just wave their arms in the direction you should go, jibber-jabber for a bit and then end with something silly like, “It’s easy to find.” Well it would be easy for them, wouldn’t it? They’ve been there already.
It’s even worse when they say, “You can’t miss it.” When someone says that to me, I always mutter under my breath, “I bet I can.” I’ve missed many homes and some good-sized businesses in my day and the businesses often had big signs on them.
Other folks give directions in a stream of consciousness style: “Go north past the lot where the old hardware store was before they tore it down two or three years ago. It might even be four by now. When you get to the Dairy Twist, take a left. If you have time, stop for a chocolate malt. They make a good one! Did I say left? I meant right. Turn right at the Dairy Twist and go two or three miles, give or take, until you get to the Smith’s house. Of course the Smith’s don’t live there anymore. They up and moved in the middle of the night a few years back. Boy I’d love to know what happened there….”
After directions like that, I used to go back to my car and sit in stunned silence for a few minutes. Then I’d drive directly to the next gas station to ask for directions again.
But Voice, everything changed when GPS was invented and you came into my life and my dashboard. Thank you for never telling me a location is easy to find or giving me directions like your train of thought is going off the track.
And thank you too for never giving directions as, well, directions. North, south, east and west are meaningless to me. I do have right and left down pretty well though.
And thank you for always remaining calm and never criticizing me when I mess up following your instructions. Not all of my passengers are as patient.
And you’re fun too. I enjoy changing your settings to give you different accents. It makes me feel like I’m traveling farther than I am.
I know it’s possible to actually change your language too, but I don’t see any reason to do that. I’d be as likely to understand right and left in your Mandarin or Slovenian versions as I am to understand north, south, east and west in English.
Anyway Voice, thank you again for all you do. I’m so grateful I don’t have to stop and ask for directions anymore.
Dorothy Rosby is the author of I Used to Think I Was Not That Bad and Then I Got to Know Me Better and other books. Contact her at www.dorothyrosby.com/contact.
Print source: The Villager, Vol. 44 No. 42, Sept. 10, 2026, page 13. Issuu edition.