Haunted Cadillac

Our rental car here in paradise has a navigation system. These things aren't very useful in and around your hometown (you know how to get back and forth to work and the grocery store at home), but the GPS can be a great tool when you're in an unfamiliar place.

It helps if you read the instructions. We never do.

So, off we went this morning, leaving Anna Maria island, across Perico Island, through Bradenton, across the big bridge and onto Treasure Island and all the connected communities. Mrs. Purple Flag on Saturday was drawn to the GPS like a moth to a flame. She started jabbing at the screen like a pensioner at a penny slot machine. After about ten minutes of furtive and assertive screen jabbing, she flopped back in her seat, quite flush, and announced "It doesn't work".

Not being in an argumentative state of mind, and hearing the kids' growling stomachs, I ignored the proclamation and asked her to watch for a suitable lunch destination.

Suddenly, an English accented gentleman's voice implored me to turn right in eight tenths of a mile. I looked at Mrs. PFOS. She issued her standard response, one that the children all learned very early, "I didn't do it".

I did as the Englishman had directed, turning at the assigned intersection. He responded, telling me to proceed two point two miles and then veer right. I did as told and Mrs. PFOS began anew with rapid fire denials of any involvement.

I followed the chap's series of instructions for five or six miles, at which point he told me to enter the parking lot of my destination. I hadn't interacted with him to this point, hadn't given him a destination, but I pulled in anyway.

We looked about and were silenced, all. We were in front of a Carabba's. Mrs. PFOS was clutching a wad of Carabba's gift cards in her mitt, denying any knowledge of how Chadwick (we had named the disembodied voice by this point) had managed to pull this off.

Unfortunately, Chadwick apparently wasn't aware that the restaurant wasn't scheduled to open for another hour. As punishment, we spent the next half hour ignoring his instructions,purposely driving other than what he said, finally stopping for lunch at Leroy Selmon's a few miles away.

We didn't offer to bring anything back for Chadwick. Kitt from Night Rider would have known what time the place opened.

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NASCAR this weekend at Michigan: look for Jimmie Johnson and Carl Edwards. Mrs. PFOS will be looking to squander cash on Kenny Wallace, so hope he doesn't qualify.

NASCAR last week...STP Investments got schmeeaarredd.