offroading in the benz

So, there I am. Driving my mama around on her errands. Minding my own business. Buying hoses at Homo Depot and an obscene number of books at B&N. Delivering a graduation present to my cousin.

Now, let's note that the cousin isn't exactly close. Despite the 30 mile distance between our houses. Mom had to dig out the directions written by my dead grandmother in order to find the place. They live in one of those communities that used to be a farm. So every street is named after a flowering tree or species of cow, and there are fifteen new communities that have popped up since the aforementioned dead grandmother scribbled on her pink post-it note. And a new golf course.

We manage to get lost three times en route. As it turns out, the grandmother that made me practice my penmanship one sunny summer day had pretty crap-tastic penmanship herself. And her daughter, as we knew, has a pretty crap-tastic sense of direction.

After we (finally) drop off the present, we decide that we can find a short cut home. After all, the road we're on crosses the highway that takes us home.

Did I mention the golf course?

Yeah. Not so much with the shortcut. We see another road and zoom off into the safety of actual country. After passing 5 real, live cows that haven't been displaced for suburban sprawl, Mom sees another "shortcut".

Now, let's take a second and discuss this.

The woman shrieks, "Turn left!!!". I slam on the brakes and say, "Where? That's a dirt road."

She insists, "Yes. It comes out on the other side of the forest." I point out that we are, in fact, driving her Mercedes. There is no cell phone service in the forest. And I am not wearing shoes that will have me hiking through the forest seeking help. For that matter, we've been stopped in the middle of the road arguing for five minutes, and no one has passed us.

Ladies and Gentlemen, we take the dirt road. It's really a dirt road. There are ruts and logs to swerve around. At one point, I point out that this is the point in the movie where the car breaks down and the people end up being eaten by badgers. Mom locks the doors. To keep out the feisty little badgers.

After driving along the dirt road for twenty minutes, we come to a stop sign. Yes, sports fans, there was a stop sign on a dirt road.

And then she says, "Ooops. Wrong road."

Yep. It took us an hour and twenty minutes to get home. Had we followed the dead grandmother's directions, we'd have been home in twenty-five.


Blogger wenders said...

Classic. I was sure you were going to say that you'd seen a ghost of grandmama in the woods...

I have determined that I do, indeed, need to buy yarn at Webs. I have a list.

2:48 PM  

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