“Where the fuck am I going?” She groaned, looking up at the half a dozen green signs she was rapidly approaching. None of the names or numbers looked at all familiar. Not that she really expected them to. She’d never been here before.
She drove past the next exit, and the little pseudo-British voice chirped out “Recalculating.”
She beat her hands against the steering wheel with a sudden burst of rage. “If that was supposed to be my exit then why didn’t you SAY SO?” she yelled at the uncaring little box stuck to her windshield. Unsurprisingly the box didn’t say anything in response to her, as it slowly counted up to 100% recalculated. She tried to wait patiently for the box’s next instruction—a task that was growing increasingly hard.
And—while she was driving at 80 MPH down the interstate, the box so helpfully told her “At your next available opportunity, make a U-turn.”
She carefully and calmly pulled her car to the shoulder, turned on her four-way emergency blinkers, and put her head down on the steering wheel and started to cry.