Where the hell am I-95… 295? …495? HELP!
For my English readership, them’s is the names of American highways, ie Interstate-95 and so on. And you know what? After eight whole years of living in London it JUST dawned on me that the M in M25 very likely stands for Motorway. Well, lookie, lookie. Learn something new everyday. Never said I was a fast learner.
Anyway, I digress.
Which is what pretty much happened yesterday on our way back to NYC from seeing the Twinpops & Co in Washington DC. Luckily my San Francisco sis was sitting next to me and her satnav brain implant was fully functioning. The girl can get you out of any twist (geographical or otherwise) with creativity, confidence and without hesitation. One day in Venice my father (who once came home with a school report card that read ‘annoys others‘) put his paternal foot down and told Elizabeth that the restaurant in question was without a doubt down this road and to the left. Her response: “you can go that way if you want to, but it’s the wrong way“. Daddypops defiantly went his merry way and nearly fell into a canal 45 seconds later. Elizabeth stood her ground and waited for him to return (giggling) so that she could lead the way.
The point of the story is that getting lost is all part of the fun and I often think it’s what life is missing these days. Screw GPS. Take byways over highways. Read a map. Don’t read a map. Go with your gut. Get it wrong. How else are you meant to find the pretty side of New Jersey?!