Driving Miss Daisy?

I got the phone call early, or late by my mother's standards, Wednesday night. Apparently, her Mobile Meals partner had ditched her and Mom was in need of a replacement.

Seeing as how I generally work at the drugstore in the evenings, my wife volunteered me for the position. She said it would give me something productive to do. I already had something to do. And productive is a relative term.

So I found myself driving Mom around in what is to be my son's car, should he survive to be 16.

"You're speeding," my mother said, for the third time.

"I haven't left the driveway, Mom," I said.

I made a beeline for the school that serves as headquarters for Mobile Meals. We got the car loaded up. We got our directions and headed out.

I knew we were in trouble when she started flapping her arms, telling me turn right. She had told me to "head to Lexington Street." That WAS where I was going. She never said which part. Lexington is a long one.

Whew... First house, check. As I backed out, she informed me we would be heading right. I began turning the wheels and backing out, angling the car to the right.

"No," she yelled. "The other way! The other way!"

I felt the need to inform her that we were both facing the same direction.

"That was your right, too, you know, Mom," I said carefully. I started to think I might know why her usual partner had failed to come through for her today.

Another house later, I received the "you're speeding" comment for, perhaps, the sixth time. Strange the way her comment caused me to swerve somewhat erratically.

"My usual partner and I don't drive anything like this," she complained.

"Think it was a badger," I said. "Crazy badgers! Did you see it? No? Really? Must have been a badger in the road... Or a real ugly dog. Maybe. Kinda."

She gave me 'the look.' You know that look that mothers give you when they think you're up to no good. I suspect she didn't believe me.

We were about five houses into our little sojourn when I realized one bag of food wasn't tied. I tried not to notice the peanut butter crackers as I picked up the bag to tie it.

"Get out of that bag!" she said, sneaking up behind me. "If you're THAT hungry, at least wait until the next house. He's blind and probably won't notice."

I glanced back at her over that comment. Did I detect sarcasm? Possibly. Was I being tested? Most certainly.

The climax of our delivery experience came toward the end when she told me to "turn right up here. Head toward Eastchester." I started the turn at a subdued pace.

"Oh... Shoot," she exclaimed. "We're going in the wrong direction. Turn around."

My right turn turned into a rather large counter clockwise circle in the middle of a four-way stop. I had just reached the end of my circle and was about to head back in the opposite direction.

"Oh. That WAS the right direction after all," she said.

I continued on my circle, finally heading the car in the right direction.

As we approached our final destination, I had my epiphany.

"Ya know, Mom," I said, "maybe you should lighten up... You can't afford to lose another driving partner."

With Perfect Direction Sense, a GPS Is Just an Extra

My GPS gave me quite a scare today. I glanced at it and saw the words "GPS is lost." Granted, I was only in Greensboro and I had only made one incorrect turn, but that is NOT what I want to see on my little windshield mounted lifeline.

Don't get me wrong. I have an excellent sense of direction. Once, when I was about 19 years old, I got to Myrtle Beach, SC, simply by heading east and utilizing my memory. And, yes, I was by myself. I still enjoy reminiscing over that trip. I love long car rides!

I even drove to North Carolina Outward Bound base camp in the mountains by memory. I did that approximately five years after my own Outward Bound excursion that I participated in. To this day, I'm still not sure what inspired that trip, but, man was I glad when I finally discovered the entrance to that place.

Now when I leave the house, my wife and my teenager will ask, "Did you get the GPS?" Even my mother and father-in-law, who both understand me too well, will ask if I've got the little device.

"We don't want another mishap like that job interview you went on, do we," Ginga said. No, we don't!

Regardless, the little screen sent my gizzards swimming through my lungs as my brain nose-dived into my stomach. I pulled over into a parking lot and re-read it.

"... GPS has lost the signal currently. Please wait a moment..." is what it really said. And then, poof, my little cartoon car popped back up with the little red line telling me to turn around the next chance I got. Like I said, I wasn't really that worried. It's not like I couldn't have wandered my way home from Greensboro. Eventually.