We've named our GPS navigatrix, who gives instruction with a schoolmarmish London accent, Dorcas (which is, along with Prunella, one of my very favorite English given -- or as they call them,"Christian"-- names). Dorcas has proved to be, on the whole, a reliable friend. She had a little trouble in Cincinnati, where, it turns out, there are two entirely distinct 225 Hill Terrace addresses. She took us to the wrong one -- but I confess that in this case the error can fairly be traced to information-inputter, Dr. M. himself.
Dorcas also had a royal hissy fit when we had to detour onto a single-lane-on-the-other-side-of the-road somewhere in Ohio -- she "recalculated" twenty or thirty times, until I had to temporarily stop her mouth. It could only be my imagination, but I thought I detected a trace of exasperation in her tone of voice.
Despite these failings, the Dorcster is a dream at finding her way around unfamiliar towns. No longer will I have to stop at gas stations for incomprehensible advice about how to get back on the highway. I just call on Dorcas and I've got a friend, oh yeah, I've got a friend.