Siri a lifesaver for ‘directionally challenged’ BND columnist
I don’t use more options on my cell phone than I use.
Fact is, I don’t know what many icons represent, and if I did, why I would use them. Telephone, texting and Internet are what I use on my cell phone, mostly.
I’ll take a photo, occasionally, but only when I remember I can take a photo with my phone. By then, it’s often too late.
The most valuable, life-changing tool on my cellphone is driving directions.
I’d be lost without Siri, literally. Siri saves me countless hours of what would have been lost time by steering me in the right directions.
Life before Siri was a driving adventure. Printed maps are no help for me. Reading a roadmap is as hard as reading a menu in Chinese or instructions on how to assemble anything. My head rejects it. Turn the map upside down, sideways. It’s lines and patterns in small type. No, thank you.
I used to leave home 15 minutes early to figure in extra time to get lost.
I have finally figured out east, west, north and south. It works when I’m here at home. Alton is north. Downtown St. Louis is west and the other way is east. South is heading to Columbia and Waterloo.
Right or left? Think of a baseball field. Lou Brock played left field. Roger Maris played right field. And I write with my right hand, right.
I’m big on stopping at a gas station or convenience mart and asking for directions. Then I realized usually I was asking another guy for directions. Heck, like me, the guy behind the counter may or may not know where he is at the moment, or maybe not. Definitely, he can’t explain how he got there. We don’t know street names or signs. We remember landmarks, though.
Take a right at Wendy’s, then a left at Dairy Queen, straight at the school.
Siri certainly would have been a relief for my dad
I am not being stereotypical, but in my world, men are more directionally challenged than women. If my late dad would have had Siri on his cell phone, he would have added a few more years to his life. Dad was a kind, gentle and caring man. But his strength was not driving directions.
Of course, dad always thought he knew where he was headed. He never mapped trips out beforehand. You could sense when he thought he may be lost by the frequency of him lighting cigarettes. Poor mom would be in the passenger’s seat, map spread out on her lap.
“Bud, I think we wanted to take that exit back there, like it says here,” she’d say.
“No, we get off up here,” he would say. “I remember.”
I loved him, but dad didn’t remember previous trips and directions.
Once, it took us six hours to make the 2.5-hour drive to Camp Ondessonk in Southern Illinois. An eight-hour drive to the Lake of the Ozarks wasn’t uncommon.
We liked to stop at Stuckey’s along the interstate for a snack and drink. But we also knew the challenge was getting back on the interstate in the right direction to the lake. I wish I had a pecan log for every time we got back on the interstate only to see familiar signs and farmhouses, but on the other side of the highway.
“I think we are going the wrong way,” someone would finally say, after a few miles. Mom would sigh. Dad would cuss. We’d get off at the next exit.
Siri makes life far less stressful
I have made my share of lost adventures, as well.
Like the time in the early 1980s when I was headed to Charleston for the high school state track meet. I was on my way to Peoria when I finally discovered I was on the wrong interstate. I got to Charleston about 15 minutes before the state tournament ended. Did my interviews. Collected the results. Wrote and filed my story. It was light on details. Never admitted that one until now.
Siri on my phone has made driving less adventurous, for sure.
For example, last fall, I drove by myself to Asheville, North Carolina, to see my daughter and son-in-law and did not get lost once. That included finding their home in a small town named Swannanoa. Siri got me there. No problem.
Just last weekend, Siri guided me to a birthday party in Collinsville. In recent years, she has guided me in other states like Florida, Tennessee and Maine. I trust her.
Siri’s nasally, female, monotone voice gets my attention, although she gets a bit annoying when repeats, “Return to route ... return to route.”
“Hold your horses,” I’ll say to her. By now, she should know I’ll return to route just as soon as I can find the route I was just on.
