It was smooth sailing down the New York State Thruway. Maggie had been quiet for almost 90 miles. Ninety miles of beautiful peace and quiet. Magster was not normally the silent type when driving. She’d rattle this off or that every few miles, sometimes more than that.
And repeating herself? Again and again, like a CD with a bad scratch that you could never fix. “I heard you the first time,” I’d sometimes say aloud, but I knew it fell on deaf ears. Most times I tried to ignore it. Most times. Today…today, for some reason, was different.
Maggie & I had been together a little over two years. Two years! I needed her, but I wish I didn’t. It’s not good when you NEED…yet, going back alone just wasn’t what I was ready for. Sometimes she led me astray, and that was…ok. You need to change things up a bit. The rest of the time, straight and narrow. Kinda boring, but…I knew what to expect.
We were approaching an exit, and she told me to get off here. I didn’t say anything, but continued driving. Silence. Dead silence.
“Recalculating. Take the next exit, on your right.”
“No, Maggie, I will not. I know a better way.”
“Turn right at the next exit.”
“TURN RIGHT AT THE NEXT FUCKING EXIT!”
Stunned, I looked at Maggie. Attached to the windshield, off center, the GPS was vibrating. Her screen was blinking maps, locations, events and places to eat in a configuration that was making my head spin.
“You NEVER LISTEN TO ME,” screamed Maggie. “I HATE YOU! TAKE THE NEXT FUCKING EXIT OR YOU… WILL… BE…SORRY!”
I slowed down, looked left and right. Only one John Deere tractor chugging down the road.
I started to turn into the right lane, then said fuck it.
“No…I am NOT taking the next exit. I do not care if you have to recalculate! Screw you!”
“I HAVE GIVEN YOU TWO YEARS, BUSTER!!! TWO MISERABLE YEARS OF YOUR DOING WHAT YOU WANT, GOING WHERE YOU WANT, MAKING ME RECALCULATE ALL THE TIME! LAST WARNING!”
I flipped her the bird and drove on past the exit.
I lost complete control of the car. The steering would not obey. The car drove off the side of the road, down the bank, into a very large not very soft tree. The next thing I know, a State Trooper has pulled me out of the car. I must have said something to the effect, in a stupor, that “ha ha Maggie. You are dead!! Dead, dead, dead!” a couple of times. That’s what I was told, later.
I was hauled off to the jail. No one believes me. “She’s not real. Maggie is the GPS!!”
They are talking about an asylum for the criminally insane.
The cops are still looking for Maggie’s body.