GPS: Genuinely Poor Suggestions

Google Maps Is Just a Suggestion


I always thoughturn right.” And so we did.

The blue line glittered on the screen—a glowing path to who-knows-where.


Part 2: The First Detour

The first mistake was trusting too much. The blue line curved left. We followed. But instead of smooth highway pavement, we found ourselves on a bumpy dirt road, the tires kicking up dust and loose gravel.

The map had not updated for construction. The voice assistant was oblivious to the broken bridge ahead.

You laughed as I gripped the steering wheel tighter. “Adventure!” you said. “Come on, where’s your sense of fun?”

The road twisted and turned like a snake, weaving through woods and forgotten fields. Then the car hit a pothole so deep I thought we might lose a wheel.

At the end of the dirt road was a gate, locked tight with a chain. We looked at each other, shrugged, and laughed harder.

Google Maps blinked innocently, recalculating the route.

That’s when I realized—maps are just suggestions.




Part 3: The Field of Cows

We backtracked and found an alternate path. This time, the blue line led us onto a narrow country road, flanked by towering fences. Then it opened up suddenly into a wide field, lush green and dotted with cows that stared at us like we were aliens.

“What the heck?” you said, as the voice instructed, “Turn left.”

We followed. The car rumbled over uneven ground, the tires slipping in the mud.

You opened the window, breathing in the fresh country air mixed with the unmistakable scent of... well, cow.

“This is why I love road trips,” you smiled. “You never know where you’ll end up.”

I smiled back. It was true. We had no plan, just the open road, the music, and each other.


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Part 4: The Highway Maze

Back on asphalt, we hit the highway, the lanes stretching out like ribbons of possibility. But the highway soon folded back on itself, confusing on-ramps and exits tangled like a pretzel.

Signs flashed past, but they seemed to change every second.

“Are we going the right way?” I asked, voice tight with uncertainty.

You shrugged and reached over, turning up the volume on the radio. A familiar song played—one we’d danced to at a friend’s wedding last summer.

“Let’s just follow the vibes,” you said, winking.

We took the next exit, unsure if it was right or wrong. The GPS muttered, “Route recalculating...” but we ignored it.

Sometimes, the best directions come from the heart, not the map.



Part 5: Gas Stations and Quiet Moments

The car needed gas. The phone needed charging. And somewhere between the two, we needed a break.

We pulled off at the next station, the neon lights flickering against the darkening sky. You grabbed some snacks—tiny bags of chips, a strange candy bar I didn’t recognize. I got a coffee so strong it burned my throat and woke my brain.

Outside, we sat on the hood, watching trucks and travelers come and go, each with their own stories and destinations.

“I wonder where they’re all headed,” I said.

“Maybe somewhere better,” you said, smiling softly.

We sat in silence, letting the moment stretch, feeling the weight of the road behind us and the mystery of the miles ahead.

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Part 6: The Music That Holds Us

The night fell thick and dark, but inside the car, the music played on.

You sang off-key, laughing when I joined in with worse notes.

The map glowed faintly on the dashboard, but we didn’t care.

We talked about everything and nothing—dreams we’ve had, places we want to see, fears we keep hidden.

Your hand found mine, fingers weaving together like a knot that won’t untangle.

I felt safe.

I felt home.



Part 7: Lost in the City Lights

We entered the city again, but this time it was different. The map led us down streets jammed with cars, honking horns, flashing neon signs.

Every turn seemed to bring a new surprise—a street fair, a food truck selling strange delicacies, a band playing jazz on a corner.

We stopped to watch, mesmerized by the chaos and life.

The city was a maze of possibility, and for once, I didn’t want to find the way out.

We wandered until the early hours, our footsteps echoing in the quiet streets.



Part 8: Where Are We Going?

At some point, I asked you, “Where are we actually going?”

You smiled, eyes gleaming in the streetlight.

“Anywhere. Everywhere. Wherever the road takes us.”

The map flickered again, the blue line moving and twisting as we drove.

I realized then that maybe getting lost wasn’t a mistake. Maybe the detours were the point.

Maybe the destination wasn’t a place, but the journey itself—and who you shared it with.


Part 9: The Final Turn

As dawn broke, painting the sky in soft pinks and golds, we found ourselves on a quiet hill overlooking the city.

You parked the car, and we sat in silence, watching the world wake up.

No maps, no directions, just the gentle hum of morning and the warmth of your hand in mine.

I thought about all the twists and turns we had taken, the places we had stumbled into, and the laughter that filled every mile.

Maps are just suggestions. But love? Love is the true compass.



Epilogue: The Road Ahead

We packed up the car and headed back, the GPS guiding us home.

But something had changed.

I didn’t need the map to tell me where I belonged anymore.

Because I was already there.

With you.


The End