It feels wonderful to occasionally ignore WAZE woman’s driving instructions. Sometimes I dismiss her advice with a little profanity. Why? Because I can, and because it doesn’t matter either way.
Around 8 am this morning I was driving a 2018 Jetta up the 405. It’s a loaner from the guys at Pacific Volkswagen, which is were the VW Beetle is waiting on a repair of the right-rear window…you don’t want to know.
WAZE woman told me to get off the 405, which was bumper to bumper, and take an exit that would lead me to La Brea Ave. north. “I’m not doing that,” I told her. “I don’t care if it’s a slightly faster way to go…I’m not doing it.” She repeated the suggestion. “Get outta here,” I said.
A half-hour later I was heading north on residential back streets, avoiding Robertson and Doheny Blvd. traffic. I knew where I was going and how to get there. Part of the fun of following your own directions is occasional improvising — deciding at the last second to turn here or there because it feels right.
“Take a left on Sherbourne Drive,” she said. I ignored her. I did what I wanted. I love not following her directions.
At the same time I respect her persistence. No matter what I do or say or whether it makes any sense, she immediately adjusts and comes back with new suggestion, and without a hint of attitude.
It would actually be great if WAZE woman could be programmed with a little sarcasm, if she could somehow signal disagreement with a quip or two.
I’m glad WAZE woman is always at the ready…seriously. WAZE is a brilliant app; ditto Google Maps. They’ve goth gotten me out of some tight situations. But sometimes “she” tells me to do stuff that makes no sense.