Last night I was on my third glass of wine when Studly Doright began planning his motorcycle trip from Doright Manor to his mom’s house in Hereford, Texas. I kept hearing him mumble into his phone.
“Siri, how far is it from Bainbridge, Georgia, to Dothan, Alabama? No, not Dowland, Dothan.
“How far from Dothan to Montgomery, Alabama?”
Some unintelligible mumbling.
This went on for at least twenty minutes. One town after another, one misunderstanding after another. Twice I thought he was talking to me. A couple of times I questioned his judgement.
“Little Rock, Arkansas? That’s way out of your way!” I said.
“Shhhh!” he shushed. “Siri and I have a thing going on.”
She helped him plot his route from Havana, Florida, to Bainbridge, Georgia, to Dothan, Alabama, to Montgomery, Alabama to Tuscaloosa, Alabama, to Columbus, Mississippi, to Indianola, Mississippi, to Hot Springs, Arkansas, to McAlester, Oklahoma, to Wellington, Texas, to his final destination of Hereford, Texas.
Whew! My route is much easier: Drive to the Tallahassee airport, board a flight to Dallas, Texas, at 7:45, change planes and arrive in Amarillo by 1:44. Siri never got involved.
He’s taking the road less traveled; I’m taking the friendly skies. Hopefully our paths will converge in the Texas panhandle. If not, Siri’s got some ‘splainin’ to do.