by Cheryl Unruh
Later, in McPherson, Dave and I wanted to photograph the old opera house and I turned on Main Street. Daniel immediately began his “recalculating” shtick. I then made several more “wrong” turns. On each one Daniel jumped in with his British-accented “recalculating, recalculating,” and “turn left in .1 mile,” trying desperately to get us back on the straight and narrow.
Each time he corrected us, I could picture the guy rolling his eyes, sighing at my driving disobedience.
Daniel? Really, Cheryl, I would have expected a British GPS to be named Gavin or Simon or Geoffrey.