My Mate Tom

Tom, or Tom Tom as you might know him, is one of my bestest buddies. He has given me a hitherto unknown sense of freedom. Although he never sends me on the route I know he is very good at recognising that I'm a stubborn mule. I imagine that inside that little box he is huffing and puffing and flicking through an atlas for a direction that involves the road I've just flippantly decided to take. I merrily tootle along ignoring him, that is until I realise I'm utterly lost and at this stage he pipes up with 'so...are you ready to listen to me now?' (well he would say that if he could but usually it sounds more like a very very forceful 'turn left in 20 yards'). Bloody knowitall.