The last hurrah

We went on a week-long camping trip last week -- my last paid vacation time before unemployment and permanent, unpaid loafing commences.

It started out well -- equipped with a GPS system, fully-stocked iPod and 5 pound bag of Sourpatch Kids riding shotgun, Gerard, the dog and I cruised up to Maine in just over the time estimated by the good folks at Garmin International. We were staying at my aunt's, in neighborhood a cross between the middle of nowhere and luxury golf community -- the type of place where people never lock their mansion doors.

The idyllic atmosphere did not keep a local villain from robbing us the night before we left. The Garmin and fully-stocked iPod were no longer ours, although the thief had kindly left the complementing plugs, our stereo, my purse and everything else we owned.

Bummed out, but not deterred, we set out for Acadia with borrowed maps and some Google directions, which kept us in line during that quick, two-hour trip. A few days later, when we left on an estimated 6 hour drive for Vermont, things did not go so smoothly.

The robbery really did us in on this leg of the trip. The missing iPod was bad enough, as it forced us to choose between 8 country music stations (in Maine? Yes.) and Rush Limbaugh for most of the trip. The missing Garmin was simply disastrous. Thanks to horrible Google directions, we started off going about an hour in the wrong direction. Google had, you see, mistaken route 1 for route 1A. And once we actually did get into Vermont, Google pretty much gave up on us. The instructions to the campsite were along the lines of, "Go over a mountain, or something, and, uh, you should see it."

If Google has enough satellite power to practically peer into my windows, how can it possibly not know where Vermont is in relation to the Maine coast? Why, when we have done our due diligence and printed out Google directions before embarking, should we have to rely on our wits, AAA maps and the vague instructions of a convenience store owner?

It is a main peeve of mine when things do not accomplish the one objective for which they are designed. Google's failure to get us where we needed to be was akin to the Mets' utter inability to win baseball games or Comedy Central's strong aversion to comedy. Shoot, I can get you lost or strike out or make bad jokes for half of what these frequent offenders are making. Especially if you pay me in Garmins.