"Turn left in two miles," The mounted GPS on my dashboard rang out.

"That's okay. I'm not going home right away today."  I said.  I went over the list of items I needed from the store in my mind.

"What you are saying does not compute." P80 told me.  "Turn left in two miles."

I shook my head and kept my hands grasped firmly around the leather steering wheel.  I didn't need a GPS, and even worse, I couldn't figure out how to get the stupid thing to turn off.

"Turn left in one and a half miles,"

"Change destination to Eileen Street," I demanded.  "I need to go to Eileen Street."

"What you are saying does not compute.  Turn left in one and a half miles." said P80.

"For the love of Pete," I muttered between clenched teeth.

"What you are saying does not compute.  Turn left in one mile."

I couldn't believe I let my wife talk me into buying one of these things.  Five hundred dollars I wasted.  That was the last time I’d ever take her with me when I go to buy electronics.  I remember the salesman telling me that this piece of junk would ‘protect the driver at all costs.’  I wanted to leave there with a new flat screen television, or maybe a new desktop computer to replace our old one, and wound up with a nagging backseat driver instead.

I even remember their catchy little sales slogan plastered on a huge sign above the P80 display, "Revolutionizing Your Driving Experience."

"Turn left in one half of a mile."

I was about to 'revolutionize' P80 with a hammer.  This thing was more likely to cause me to wreck than help me get to my destination.

"Take upcoming left turn," it said.

"No."

"What you are saying does not compute.  Take upcoming left turn."

"Make me."

"Command confirmed," said P80.

The wheel flew from my grasp and whipped me through the other lane where oncoming traffic could have been and onto a dirt road.  The car hammered to a stop on a road filled with potholes that lead into a trailer park.  I could hear the sound of dirt shifting under my tires.

"What was that?"  I asked.  "I'm two seconds from ripping out your circuits."

Just as I was about to call and file a lawsuit against the company that made P80, the front right tire of an oncoming vehicle popped and the driver lost control and drifted exactly where I would have been.  The sound of tires screeching filled the air. With my car safely on the side of the road and out of his way, he regained control of his vehicle a few yards later and got out to replace the tire.

"Protect the driver at all cost." declared the machine.

"P80, you saved my life.  Maybe you aren't so bad after all." I said as I shifted into reverse and backed out onto the road.

"What you are saying does not compute.  Turn right in six miles."