Life is full of wrong turns.
That’s not surprising when I often become disoriented in a
mall. Many is the time I come out of a side store and think I’m heading toward
the end cap and wind up at the food court instead. I grab a doughnut and
coffee, justified by the additional steps I’ll have to take to walk back to
where I wanted to go in the first place, and start the journey over.
Back in the days when I first started driving, we used road
maps. When I wanted to take a trip, I pulled out my Atlas, wrote down the
directions and headed out. Problem is, I don’t know North, South, East or West
when I’m on the road. I suppose I should have installed a huge compass on the
dashboard. I’d read the road map only to realize, I read it upside down and
ended up ten miles north instead of ten miles south.
Where’s the fun in always knowing where you want to go?
Sometimes I take a purposeful, spur-of-the-moment, side trip…not
knowing where I’m going or where I’ll end up—and with no GPS or road map. Just
trying to remember what street I turn onto when and retracing my steps.
Obviously, I’ve always managed to find my way back…unlike Charlie on the MTA, I
did return.
On one of those unplanned excursions, I ended up at a flea
market barn…huge one…and I bought a picture. I still have it and display it
prominently—a landscape of a turn of the century town…much like I imagine any
small town in America would have looked like on the eve of the automobile. I
like to put myself into the town and imagine what my life might have been like
if I’d lived then.
Sometimes a wrong turn or an impromptu adventure can bring a
taste of fond memories.
Have you ever taken a wrong turn and wound up in
Adventureland? I’d love to hear about it.
