my city was gone

I believe that the greatest invention in the past ten or so years is the GPS. Sure, GPS technology has been around for a lot longer than ten years, but recently I have become aware of just how helpful and indispensable it really is. Years ago, a trip to AAA was the necessary first step in planning a family vacation to some distant destination. I would order a "Triptik" from the auto club well in advance of our departure date. My wife, who loves to drive, would sit behind the wheel of our packed car and I would man the passenger's seat — or in this case the navigator's seat — as I announced upcoming exits, turns and rest stops as highlighted on our custom, multipage roadmap, as prepared by the good folks at Triple A. The GPS has eliminated this service. It has also eliminated stopping a stranger on the street to ask (or clarify) directions. The ungodly procedure of asking a gas station attendant in an unfamiliar locale for directions has also been eliminated. (Actually, are there even gas station attendants to ask?) Yes sir! with the GPS that is available on nearly every cellphone or downloadable app, directions to anywhere are as easy as plugging in an address. Using your phone's location, directions are calculated in seconds and a nice lady with a pleasant (if sometimes insistent) voice will guide you to your destination. I have even used my GPS to locate a particular gravesite on my various cemetery adventures.

I was born and raised in Philadelphia and I have lived no where else. (Technically, I live in the Philadelphia suburbs, but that's splitting hairs.) I am a Philadelphian and I identify as such. Every morning, for the past two years, I take the same route to work, I drive a short distance through the suburbs to the Philadelphia city limit, crossing into the "Great Northeast" where I navigate my car towards the Tacony-Palmyra Bridge and cross into New Jersey (which is also, technically, a suburb of Philadelphia). It is approximately a forty minute drive that I have compartmentalized in my mind, taking note of where I am on my route, so I know if I am making good time and estimating my arrival time at work. Depending on the traffic, I will sometimes adjust my route — a block here and a block there — to avoid jams, construction, school crossings and other inconveniences that might hinder my commute. Every so often, I turn to my trusty GPS if I find myself on an unfamiliar street, just to get myself resituated.

One day last week, there was an awful lot of construction on a major thruway right at the beginning of my drive. I could see cars slowing down and up ahead, I could make out flashing lights and large, stationary construction vehicles. I quickly turned into the smaller streets of the adjacent neighborhood, hoping to take a parallel street and find my way back to my regular route. Apparently, every street in this neighborhood was blocked with maintenance vehicles from the Philadelphia Water Company. The further I drove, the further I got from the idea of backtracking to my regular route. When I finally came out to a street I recognized, there was a large fenced-in government building smack-dab in the middle of the neighborhood grid. Unhappily, I headed further and further south. I would have to forgo the Tacony-Palmyra Bridge and take the less-traveled Betsy Ross Bridge instead. The Betsy Ross Bridge was constructed between 1969 and 1974, though it did not open to traffic until 1976, due to protests from the neighborhood regarding proposed access routes. It was a beautiful bridge with no way to get on it. The Betsy Ross Bridge — almost fifty years later — is still surrounded by temporary roadways and changing access ramps. I don't take the Betsy Ross Bridge too often (if I can help it), so I needed a little help from my ol' GPS to get me to it. I typed in the name of my place of employment and the GPS sprung to life, instructing me to make various lefts and rights onto streets that, despite being born in this city and living here for 60 years, I was unfamiliar. I was even more unfamiliar with the neighborhood. It was a run-down, obviously working-class area with plenty of boarded-up businesses and grungy-looking auto repair places every five or so feet. I drove fairly slowly as I took my car over heavily potholed streets and past a number of abandoned vehicles. At one point, the GPS voice directed me to "turn left" down a narrow street lined with garages. A woman in her twenties was staggering across the street, reeling like a boxer trying to avoid getting socked in the head. She was unsteady on her feet, but had an enormous grin on her face. She also paid no attention to my car or the fact that it was moving towards her. I touched my brake pedal and waited for her to make it to the crumbling sidewalk, after which I left her in my rearview mirror. My next turn brought me to a large intersection where the street became six lanes. Huge shopping complexes filled with national brand stores rose up on all four corners... just a few feet from an area that looked like a battlefield. Just ahead, I was told to make another left. I did and I followed the street a short way to a giant municipal sign pointing to the entrance to the Betsy Ross Bridge — an entrance I had never seen before. As a matter of fact, I hadn't seen any of these surroundings before. I was a little embarrassed that, as a proud Philadelphian, there I was... driving around whole sections of my fair city that were as foreign to me as if they were in another country.

The next day, things were back to normal. Construction had ended and I was, once again, crossing the good old Tacony-Palmyra Bridge

If this happens again, luckily, I have my GPS to guide me... like an electronic Jiminy Cricket.

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