My satellite navigation system is built into the car. I had no choice in it although its presence was one of the factors I used in deciding to buy the car. My car is German. Miss Whiplash, the voice of the sat nav, doesn’t have a German accent but only because she has learnt to hide it to avoid stereotyping.
Her voice is soothing on the surface, pleasant sounding on a long journey. She suggests a route in a kindly voice. But just like a school teacher, simmering beneath those lovely tones is the hint that should I choose not to follow her direction, Bad Things would happen. I talk to her, of course, and she tolerates my musings. But I know not to go too far.
Yesterday, I made the mistake of ignoring her preferred choice of routes to Clovelly. As punishment, she took me down ever narrowing roads until I was barely able to squeeze between the hedgerows. I think she even arranged for the open topped tour bus to be on the same stretch of road. I had company so she didn’t do anything overtly Bad.
Just in case she has access to a wireless network, I should add that I like my sat nav a lot. She is kind to me. Honest.