Jacob Wycoff is in town. I’m not sure if I’m allowed to say what he’s doing, but it’s a cool assignment. We got together for dinner tonight. First time in five years.
Jacob is staying in Rosemead. He might as well have told me Mars. I’m clueless.
The new car has GPS, so I programmed in the address and set out. Locals always know better shortcuts, but for a territory virgin, GPS is an amazing tool.
This nav is hooked into satellite radio. It gets live traffic updates. It was very chatty tonight.
First it enumerated all the slowdowns on the 5. Then it told me it was changing the route.
Was I consulted?
I was not.
My rule with GPS is you believe or don’t. You don’t change your mind mid-route. For safety’s sake, the ability to preview the route isn’t available while you’re in motion. So, when the GPS changes the route, you must accept it on blind faith.
Down Irvine Blvd instead of the 5. Through Irvine and Tustin, I rejoined the Interstate in Santa Ana.
The GPS wasn’t done yet. It changed its mind once more, taking me back off the 5 and onto city streets… miles and miles and miles of city streets.
During the early evening hours freeways here are everything you’ve been led to believe. I-5 has four through lanes plus an HOV lane in each direction. Traffic’s still stop-and-go. This major change seemed plausible.
It’s certainly a route no human would formulate. Too awkward. Too disjointed. Too anti-intuitive.
Did the GPS save me time? Clueless again. Maybe all the GPS units are sitting around tonight having a laugh on me?
It was 1:40 to get there. The ride back, down the 5, thirty five minutes.