Monday, June 23, 2008

Our Girl Stella


Somewhere in the middle of Alabama our GPS gave up. It thinks we’re in a corn field and if we follow it, we will be. We’re on a highway surrounded by rolling shale beds interspersed with the piney woods of Eastern Alabama. And, the GPS won’t stop insisting that we turn where there is no road.

We are not a GPS family, or we weren’t until Honda equipped us with this 2009 Honda Pilot Touring Edition for the journey. The system has been excellent but only after the break-in period where we alternately took turns fussing with it and veering off the road while trying to learn its idiosyncrasies and remain married. Who knew that NOT asking directions would result in our first three-way: Steve, me and the Navigation Woman we’ve named Stella.

Now we’re so used to her that we’ve ditched our Atlas and are thinking of bringing her into the hotel room for the night. We’ve used her to find hotels in each town, the Cadillac Ranch, Texas Motor Speedway, and some of the best ribs in Oklahoma. So far, she’s a pretty satisfying third wheel. But, you know, a three-way is tough to do without becoming emotional -- she falls to pieces every once in a while.

Sometimes, we miss a turn and she insists we turn around, when there’s a pretty good alternate route clearly on the map. And, then there was Las Vegas where she seemed spastic to keep us off the strip. Maybe she was afraid of the competition. And, she’s a little out of date when it comes to local cuisine in small towns – which may come and go too quickly to stay current and often seem to have left just moments before we pull in. Or is that part of her ruse to keep us from acquiring new tastes and keep us to herself? But, just when you think she’s turned into a Fatal Attraction and you really, truly need to find Elvis’ birthplace, the American Old Time Auto Museum in Morillton, Arkansas, or the Honda Manufacturing Plant in Lincoln, Alabama -- she’s Steve’s girl. And, so am I.

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