British Emily Gets A Little Cheeky

I’m pleased to report that we made it to Grandma’s house in Virginia, GPS notwithstanding.

I thought I would spice things up a bit for the trip by switching from “American Jill” to “British Emily.” Nothing personal against Jill, mind you, but I’ve always been something of an Anglophile, gravitating toward C.S. Lewis, Manchester United, James Bond and the like.

I felt downright sophisticated traveling up the interstate with British Emily’s smooth, cultivated King’s English guiding my every turn. She practically paid for herself just west of Knoxville when she nailed that Mellow Mushroom, one of our family favorites and the unofficial pizza of Southeastern Conference Football, just seconds before we would have passed that exit by.

It’s hard to explain, but I just felt like the trip went a little faster with Emily calling the shots and the Great Garmin Eye-In-The-Sky tracking my progress. It was cool–comforting, even–being able to look over at the real time map and see exactly where I was and how much longer it was going to take to get “there.”

But as we entered Roanoke and I made my usual left turn on Elm Avenue, British Emily started to get a little cheeky.

She wanted me to continue on Elm Avenue and on into Vinton. I wanted to turn right on 9th street. I was right, of course. Emily begged to differ.

“Recalculating,” she calmly intoned. “Please continue for .1 miles and turn left.”

No thanks, Em, I know exactly where I’m going. As my family has heard me say a thousand times, “I know Southwest Virginia like the back of my hand.”

“Please take the next left and go back the way I told you to,” she commanded, this time a bit more urgently.

No, really Emily, I appreciate all you’ve done, but I really do think I know a better way.

“Mike (she knows my name?), please turn around now. We all know what happened the last time you tried to wing it.”

Emily, dear, you weren’t even around on my last trip, so how could you possibly know what happened? Get some rest. You’ve earned it. Say, your father’s name wasn’t HAL 9000, was it?

“Turn around, now!”

Listen, I don’t like your tone of…

“Now you idio…”

And with that, I reached over and turned Emily off.

Will wonders never cease? A backseat driver whose voice you can turn off with a mere flip of a switch.

Now that’s something to be thankful for.

————————————————————————–

Blessings to all this Thanksgiving. Enjoy your time with family and friends–even you Barners.

But come Saturday, it’s back to business.