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.