Modern man is soft, that’s all there is to it. Look at you, with your cell phone with its stored phone book. Whatever happened to having to remember people’s numbers, hunh? You drop that thing down a storm drain and you’re helpless, you pathetic little slug.

And what’s this? Magellan RoadMate GPS receiver? Oh, right, because god forbid you have to cultivate a sense of direction. You wouldn’t want to have to read a map, no. No, your brainspace is set aside for more pressing concerns, like when you’re going to get a chance to catch up on your TiVoed episodes of HEROES. You’re a sorry excuse for a man, you know that?

Yeah, you’re just one battery failure away from an exurban reenactment of INTO THE WILD here. Take away your Magellan RoadMate—with its voice guidance and turn-by-turn directions—take away all the maps that are pre-loaded on its hard drive and you’d be nothing more than coyote chow wrapped in a Banana Republic feed sack, you know that?

What would you do without the RoadMate’s database of almost two million points of interest, gas stations, restaurants, et cetera? You think you could find your way to the highway? To anyplace? Which way do you think is west? DON’T LOOK AT THE ROADMATE, I’m asking you!

What would you do if you got a flat? Can you even change a flat? Have you ever walked farther than the distance from the Starbucks parking lot to the coffe counter? You think you could last a night out here? You think you can swipe your ATM card on a sugar maple out here and get some flapjacks?

You disgust me.

But thanks, all the same, for the ride home. I hate riding my Segway in the rain.

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