Old Man Yells at GPS

My daughter took her bicycle out in the pouring rain today to deliver presents to her friends, equipped with her backpack and her phone with it's GPS app.

An hour later I got a phone call.

"I'm lost".

After a frantic and irritable quarter hour on the phone I trudged out to the car and drove across North Portland to where she stood, wet and apologetic, and loaded her and the bicycle and her gifts into Bad Bob the Subaru and drove to where her friend lived. Turned out she was about right east-west (off by about a block) but way north, almost eight blocks or so. The Girl says that what happened was that the touch-screen started to sputter when it got soaked, and the GPS app kept jumping her around, telling her she was one block, then four blocks, then six blocks from her friend.

I remarked that civilian GPS gimmicks had a randomizer incorporated in them so that Cletus and Ahab the bomb-makers couldn't outwit the military units tasked to catch 'em.

We arrived at the friend, who emerged in an exultation of dogs, handed off the prezzies, and retreated, wet and grateful, to the car and then to the Little House. Daughter has been curled up on the couch since then with her blanket and her treacherous phone, looking at cat videos.

I patiently explained to The Girl that once, everyone in Portland had a copy of something called a Thomas Guide in their car that guided them to their destinations.

I suspect she didn't believe me.

Si jeunesse savait. Si viellesse pouvait.