image from Hope at pinterest.com
I thought my driving wasn’t that bad~ a wobble here, a creative turn there, nothing worth filing a complaint over. But then my GPS cleared its throat, sounded genuinely concerned, and announced in a trembling voice: In 400 feet, do a slight right… stop… and let me out! I swear it buckled its digital seatbelt, recalculated its life choices, and whispered something about hazard pay. Now every time I start the car, it sighs like a weary parent and asks if I’ve considered walking instead.
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