"A Sorry Sense of Direction"

     At times, I have a sorry sense of direction. (You already know that if you read my post “Driving Alone II, Lost in Cranford.) For instance, did I ever tell you the real reason that I purchased a cell phone back in 2001?  I made a trip to Taco Bell, to pick up supper for the family.  Mind you, the Taco Bell was a mere 10 minutes from our house.  Well, coming out of their driveway, I made a wrong turn.  (The return trip is not as direct. Really!)  I continued driving, my intuition telling me that I was going the wrong way, but proceeding nevertheless.  (I have since learned to listen to my intuition. She is the brains of this outfit.) I wound up in a somewhat unsavory area, and I asked someone for directions.  They sent me ever deeper into the city.  By this time I am totally exasperated, and there is no one to turn to. My husband (at the time) had been a truck driver for many years, and he knew his way around the state blindfolded.  The problem was, I couldn’t contact him because I didn’t have a cell phone, and there wasn’t a pay phone in sight.  I eventually found a gas station, and the fellow mercifully pointed me towards home and directed me out of the city.  I was amazed when, after going about 4 blocks and making a scant 2 turns, I knew exactly where I was: in my town, 10 minutes from my house, and fortunately for me, I wasn’t back in front of the Taco Bell.  The very next day, I packed the sons up and made a trek to the mall.  We all came home with cell phones that day.  They were thrilled, in spite of the cold tacos they’d had for supper the night before.