Lost In A Paper Bag

Ever since I was a kid, my family has always kidded me about my serious lack of a sense of direction. I have to admit it, I am so "directionally challenged" that I would get lost in a paper bag.

For my blog visitors from other countries, the American expression "get lost in a paper bag" is used to describe someone just like me. Someone who, given the choice of turning right or left, goes straight. Someone who says to himself, "the sun sets in the west, so turn right."

I have no idea how this came to be. I have always been that way. When I started to work in Washington, DC, in the '80s and using the Metro to get into the city, inevitably I would come up out of the station and turn the wrong direction, confidently marching down the street for blocks until I realized that I was going the wrong way.

Oddly, as a skydiver, you can show me a visual image peering down upon the Earth from the sky, and I can find where I need to be (for example, land is always better to touch down upon than water!) Give me a map, and I can verbally explain to you where something is, and how the map indicates how to get there.

But put me on my motorcycle (or in a cage) with a written set of directions (start here, go 0.3 miles, turn right on X road. Go 1.4 miles, turn left on Y road)... I can't find it. I swear, the roads aren't there! It is like I am in a completely different state (or on a different planet.)

Friends have said, "just get yourself a GPS. That will solve your problem." I fear not, but to be honest, I have not tried it. I remain seriously fearful of distracted driving since I witnessed my friend get killed by a cell-phone yapping SUV driver. When I operate a vehicle, I want to have both eyes on the road ahead and everything around me (sides, rear) 100% of the time.

This coming weekend, I had offered to be one of several leaders of a motorcycle riding event. Others who will lead rides for this coming weekend's event are doing pre-ride on Wednesday night. A pre-ride gives ride leaders a chance to familiarize him or herself with the route. Unfortunately, I can not do the pre-ride then. It doesn't fit my schedule, nor do I want to ride in the evening when I'm tired while trying to remember turns and landmarks. I know my limits. Also, landmarks look different in evening twilight than they do in full daytime sunshine.

I spent two hours last Sunday afternoon trying to ride this route by myself. I got hopelessly lost several times. I would find parts of the route, then inevitably miss a turn and wind up somewhere else. Darn! I am just not good at following written directions. I gave up and tried to come home (getting lost several times in the process.) Oh well, I enjoyed a ride on a sunny day, even if I did not know where I was.

When I got home, my partner was still painting the upstairs hallway. (He is such a perfectionist.) He handed me a paint roller, and I began to help him while explaining my predicament and concerns. He just shrugged it off, and said to forget it. He did not realize how upset I was -- but in hindsight, he was right in the sense that the world isn't going to end if I can't lead a ride because I do not know where I am going.

I wrote a message to the overall ride organizer to say, "take me off the list of ride leaders... nothing is more embarrassing than trying to lead a ride for others and getting lost."

Some readers of this blog think that my life is all full of roses and nothing goes wrong. Well, lots of things go wrong. However, I let it pass, and move on with life. I will think of something that makes me smile, tell a story, share a moment with the man of my life, or take a stroll in our back yard park to watch the birds, squirrels, and rabbits play. Soon enough, I am back on track.

Meanwhile, don't follow me. I do not know where I am going. But I try to have fun while getting wherever that may be!