I have a GPS and his name is Aoenghus. He tells me to get on the motorway instead of the highway and that makes me very happy.
My last GPS's name was Brittany and she was American. And she was a bitch. I think back to her snotty pronunciation of the phrase "at the next available exit." and still have night terrors.
When she urged me to make a u-turn, what she really said was," Lola, you are a complete fucking idiot and you missed your goddamn exit. I alerted you over three miles ago but you have Muse playing entirely too loud and you insist on plaguing me with your incessant and, if I might add out-of-time, steering-wheel drumming. You will never get where you are going because I won't allow it. In fact I am going to take you to all of the high traffic areas so that you take 5 and a half hours to go 30 miles just because I CAN!"
But Aoenghus, oh delightful spot-of-tea Aoenghus, invites me to take a turn on the motorway with his quiet air of dignity and the ridiculously sexy timbre to his voice. He is quick to point out that there is a pub on my right if I fancy a pint or when there is a member of the opposite sex (and of appropriate attraction value) in the passenger seat that there is a Motel 6 on my left if I am in the mood for a quickie.
I love Aoenghus and all that he stands for.