The trust is gone
Susan Nienow

I used to know, with complete certainty, that when I got in the car I would actually end up where I wanted to be. Now, I can't be sure.

I refuse to take all of the blame myself though. The highway department keeps changing the roads, and developers are building whole communities where my dead oak tree was that used to be my landmark for taking the next left, and any homeowners who changed the color of their houses have to take some of the blame.

Last week, I drove out of the driveway and put the car in auto drive. It knows how to get to the drug store. But, after a few minutes, I realized that was headed in the opposite direction. And yesterday, I headed out to the library. In just five minutes, was certain someone had moved it.

I didn't recognize the street I was on, and where did all of those apartments come from? I couldn't remember taking a wrong turn, but hadn't a clue where I was. This is not entirely an unusual situation for me. So I did what I have always done-keep going straight until something looked familiar.

Eventually it did. I had missed a turn, I think - or maybe two.

The computer map programs are fine up to a point, but way too specific for me. What is this business about going .7 mile? I watch my odometer and when it turns to .7, there is no Smith Road. I go .3 more, and there it is, but the name on the sign is Smith Drive. So, do I turn or not? I turn. After 15 minutes, I find my way back to the beginning and find a Smith Road street sign hiding behind a dogwood tree. I check the odometer .5 mile.

It would be so much easier if the directions said turn at the large purple house with the green elephant on the mailbox.

My other half is only beginning to understand the depth of this problem. The other day he looked at me and said, "You really don't even have a 50 percent chance of being right, do you? Given a choice of going right or left, you always pick the wrong way."

It is kind of a touchy subject with us. This morning he asked, "Don't you get directions before you leave the house?"

"Sometimes," I said, a little defensively.

My mantra is: "It's around here somewhere."

Some of the new cars come with GPS which is code for "I'm lost, and you're supposed to tell me how to fix it." My other half thinks mine would be programmed to say, "You are perpetually lost. Call your other half, so he can give your directions to get home."

But really, he is either an eternal optimist or in serious denial. The other day in a large department store, he said, "I'll meet you at the door we came in."

"Huh?"