TomTom’s Dirty Little Secret

My mother has a TomTom GPS device, which we have, so far, survived. I do TomTom a disservice in singling it out, because it isn’t the only GPS device with this secret. I’ve been afraid they would find out that I was onto them, and I’ve finally decided that my only safety lies in telling the world.

The GPS directions are programmed by zombies.

That lady (ours is a lady) who tells you in a firm, no-nonsense voice, where you should turn, when you should “go straight on” and when to “take the motorway” has so often steered us away from our destinations, landing us at the end of no-outlets or on crumbling single-lane backroads or in weed-choked, lightless wastelands! One friend, attempting to go to a coffee house, was directed to a (dramatic music) cemetary!

"Turn around when possible." Photo by Timmy Toucan

Just last week, she steered us off our route and took us through the Great Smokey Mountains. At night. With a full moon. Is that a reasonable way to go from Indiana to Georgia? I ask you: Is it?

I carry an umbrella in the back window of my car as a warning to zombies that I’m ready for them. So far, it seems to have worked. At any rate, I still have whatever has been passing for my brains.

And now you’ve been warned so now you, too, may be on guard. It’s us against them, people. Us against Them.

WRITING PROMPT: Does your main character follow directions well, or does he or she suspect directions of always being wrong?



I was born in Louisville, Kentucky, but now live in the woods in southern Indiana. Though I only write fiction, I love to read non-fiction. The more I learn about this world, the more fantastic I see it is.

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One thought on “TomTom’s Dirty Little Secret

  1. Ginny Fleming

    December 24, 2011 at 9:56am

    Gives new emphasis to the phrase: “Do *NOT* stray from the main road.” Doesn’t it?

    *MY* Lady owes her life to the fact she “ho’s out” as a phone in her spare time.

    Your “Lady” owes her life to your firm grip on her boxy lil’ body.

    But, Lady or no, there’s no one I’d rather ride through great outcroppings of rock, while screaming at the top of my lungs and gripping the steering wheel as if it were the last fated string tethering me to this cruel life — than you, my dear, darling Marian. ,8-]


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    • Author

      Marian Allen

      December 24, 2011 at 11:13am

      LOL! For somebody who would rather be driving from under the seat, you appeared to be very calm and in control. Between you, me and Tammi with her stick, we were prepared for anything. And now, that was NOT banjo music we heard.

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