To say that I am directionally challenged is a gross understatement. Thank you, Lord, for giving me a patient husband.
My dad used to try his best, as I was growing up in Fort Worth, to teach me the compass points. He has an internal compass. I don't. I can't even have one surgically implanted, because my body would reject it as alien matter. Dad would insist on giving me directions in "north" and "west", thinking that, if I practiced enough, I would eventually get it. My brain just does not work that way. Spin me around a couple of times, and I have no idea which direction I started from.
Thankfully, I live in a small city, and have lived here long enough to actually know where everything is located. When we first moved here, though, Kregg bought me a city map and put dots on it to indicate the location of our house, the grocery store, etc. Not even kidding! We lived in Amarillo for the first five years of our married life and I distinctly remember the huge sense of accomplishment I felt one day, as I was trying to go somewhere I hadn't been before, and I found myself actually on the right street. That sense of success was fleeting because, even though I had made it to the right street, I had no idea which direction to turn on that street. And, of course, I usually guessed wrong the first time and had to find a way to turn around and proceed in the opposite direction. At least it did get me in the habit of leaving early for things.
I remember one time I was given a seemingly impossible task, but I really thought I could pull it off. I was supposed to drive from Midland to Dallas and pick Kregg up at Love Field. I grew up in Fort Worth and I had driven to Love Field several times. I would have thought that I could get there one more time. The kids and I left Midland in plenty of time to drive 350 miles and pick him up in front of the airport. Well, I couldn't retrace my path to save my life, but I somehow ended up in South Oakcliff after dark. Love Field is no where even close to South Oakcliff. This was a neighborhood I remember hearing about in the news all the time when I was growing up. Lots of violent crime.
It was almost time for his plane to land. What now?? This was before cell phones. (Yes, I am that old!) I kept driving around looking for anything that seemed even vaguely familiar. Then I saw a city work crew! I parked the van, locked it, got out and went up and asked for directions. Of course, they laughed when they realized how lost I really was. They kindly gave me directions and I proceeded happily on my way. I pulled up in front of the terminal just as Kregg was walking out! Yes, I too was amazed.
When we first moved to Midland from Amarillo, the city of Lubbock (strategically placed halfway between) used to give me fits! One evening we left Amarillo to drive the four hours to Midland. I was going to drive so Kregg could sleep. There's only one road to Lubbock from Amarillo, so I navigated that leg of the journey successfully. Kregg was sleeping soundly and it was really late when I hit Lubbock. I got on the road he had told me to get on and that part was just fine. The only problem was when to get off? I was on a loop around Lubbock and, you guessed it, I somehow missed my exit south to Midland. (Notice my confident use of "south.") Anyway, I had been driving in a circle around Lubbock for too long. Things started to look familiar. I had made the whole loop around the entire city of Lubbock and was back at the road to Amarillo (the one heading north!). Well, the second time around I found my exit and headed merrily toward home. Kregg slept through the whole thing! When we pulled into our driveway in Midland, we went in and went straight to bed. I didn't really think my scenic detour worthy of mention. I thought I had actually gotten away with it without his knowledge until the next day. He, being the human computer, just happened to notice there were too many miles on the car's odometer!! How does he do that??? He came in the house and said, "Anne, is there anything you would like to tell me?"
My most infamous story of misdirection, however, I share with my sister, Stephanie. She is similarly afflicted. The two of us setting out on a road trip should have scared even us. Nope!
Stephanie planned a ski trip for us to Vail, Colorado. I was still in high school and she lived in Kansas City. I completed the first leg of my journey from Fort Worth to Kansas City by letting someone else drive: Greyhound Bus Line. That, in itself, was quite an adventure. It is amazing how long it takes to go from one city to another if you stop in every little town in between. By the time I reached KC, I felt like I had already circumnavigated the earth.
Stephanie, not having children, has always driven cool vehicles. At this point, she had a red convertible Alpha Romeo. We strapped her skis to her rear bumper with bungee cords. They were too big to fit inside the car, where else could we put them? They stuck out on either side of the bumper. Oblivious to impending doom, we jumped in the car and were off. How hard could this be? I-70 goes from Kansas City straight to Denver.
We were having a grand old time singing along with the Beatles and munching on yummy stuff out of our ice chest as we buzzed down the highway. We had no map, didn't need one of course, and so we were keeping up with our progress by the tollway punchcard. When we got to the last punch on the toll card, I told Stephanie to ask the lady in the toll booth how far it was to Denver. We were on the stateline between Kansas and Colorado. Or so we thought! "Denver!" she said. "You are on the Oklahoma border!" We had been going south, not west for hours! Neither of us had a clue.
Well, no matter, we would just make up for lost time! We turned ourselves around and headed toward our destination. If we hadn't taken a detour of several hours, we would have missed the blizzard. As it was, we landed right in the middle of a white-out. We were in far western Kansas. The snow was coming down so thickly and so fast that it was almost impossible to keep the windshield clear. As it grew dark, visibility dropped to a few yards. This was that heavy, wet snow that piles up very quickly. As conditions worsened, the road became passable in only one lane. This little car only had a clearance of a few inches so we were driving in the tracks of the vehicle in front of us. It seemed like the only ones on the road were semi trucks and us. The problem was when we would get behind a truck, it would throw so much snow up that we couldn't see at all. Stephanie (she has grown much wiser since then) would tell me to pray because she was going to pass the semi. Boy, did I pray. She would pull over into the other lane that wasn't really a lane anymore and use the lights along the bottom of the semi trailer as our only point of reference. We had no idea what lay ahead of us: a bend in the road, a stalled car? As soon as we passed the headlights on the truck, she would whip in front of it.
When the semi trucks give it up, you know its over. We saw a convenience store beside the highway and pulled in. The clerk told us that the interstate had just been closed from Russell, Kansas (which was right ahead of us) to Limon, Colorado. Stephanie asked if there was anyplace to stay in Russell and the clerk was good enough to call them for us. We got the last room in the trailer court in Russell.
We checked into our motel and carried the bags in. It was freezing!! There was a big gap under the door and snow was blowing into the room. We piled all the blankets on one bed and put on as many articles of clothing as we could, without cutting off circulation. We slept huddled together beneath the blankets, trying to fend off frostbite.
The next morning, we made our way to the lobby of the motel to get a report on the road conditions. The only other occupants of this establishment were truck drivers and they were all in the lobby. Everyone else, it seemed, had had the good sense to stay home. It took the highway department almost a full day to clear the road and reopen the highway. In the meantime, we did discover the best mexican food on the planet was to be had at a little restaurant in Russell. The only other way to pass the time in that town was at the bowling alley, but it was league night.
Stephanie's husband, when he learned of our misfortune, said, "Well, can you travel east?"
Stephanie told him that the road to the east was still open, but that we really didn't want to give up yet.
He said, "Why don't you go back and find an airport. Then you could hop on a plane and head to the Bahamas instead." He doesn't like to be cold and could imagine nothing worse than being stuck in a huge pile of snow, unless it was skiing. He thought the beaches and waves sounded like a lot more fun. Not having beachware was no problem either. He told her to just buy us clothes when we got to the beach. (No children = money to spend)
As nice as that sounded at the moment, we really wanted to go skiing. We waited it out. When the highway finally reopened, we resumed our journey. As we finally left Kansas, Stephanie looked at me and said, "Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore!" She had been waiting two days to say that! And not too many hours later we arrived happily in Vail.
And yes, the skis were still strapped to the bumper!
We will never live that one down!
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