Just Another Front Seat Driver

Generally speaking, I have a rather good sense of direction. Like most men, I don't usually see the need for real directions, and it's seldom that I get hopelessly lost. At those times, I hope that I'm alone because the shame would be too much. My sweetie is mostly accepting of my many piccadillos, but she has this thing about my driving. The various twitches, stiffening of the posture and grabbing door handles (and occasional minor swear words)serves only to make me uncertain at the time when I must be MOST certain. At such times, I usually bear it patiently...for about three seconds. But today, I was faced with a truly daunting task: traveling 34 miles from a strange airport, through a major city to a destination which I had visited but never as a driver. I had the barest of directions (I-79N/SH60) until the exit for Wexford. Seemed easy enough, but there was this idea that maybe those directions were not sufficient. Fortunately, GPS was available. Hooking it up was a breeze, but the problems started then. "Home" involved an address that was not right. Fifteen fruitless minutes later, my sweetie figured that the address was so new that we should just take the one available and figure it out from there. Christopher Columbus would have been proud.
Finally adjusting to the beeps which signalled turns and being able to read the screen while keeping a focus on the road, I was on my way. Only one false turn ("At the first opportunity, make a legal U-turn") later, we managed to find our way.
I'm not sure I can stand the strain of having two entities scrutinizing my every automotive move.
I'm taking a cab on the return trip!