An Unerring Sense of Direction. (As long as you neglect the mistooks.)

I have an unerring sense of direction. I proved it this afternoon. Heading off into the wild blue yonder, otherwise known as southern New Jersey, I headed to a nearby court to pay a traffic ticket and then to the nearby DMV (Dept. Motor Vehicles, even though it mostly deals with drivers). After that, a coffee, the supermarket and home.

Google Maps failed me completely. I knew I wanted exit 20 on I295, but the map I'd printed didn't show where I was in relation to where I wanted to go. I could have looked at a proper map, but what's the point of that? So I headed north on I295. Seeing exits 28 and 29 pass me by I surmised I was heading in the wrong direction. Time to either turn New Jersey or myself around. I opted for myself. It was easier.

I found Exit 20. It was south of where I expected it to be, so someone must have moved it. Nevertheless, I found the DMV. Eighty dollars lighter in the DBA (Dept of Bank Account), I headed for a coffee at Barnes & Noble, a big boxy bookstore. They sell cups of Starbucks coffee and have fairly decent café seating. The coffee is significantly higher than the price of a gallon of gasoline. (Except in Britain, where it's probably cheaper to purchase a bottle of decent wine than a cup of a coffee, and the coffee is definitely cheaper than the petrol.) ... You know, I've never been able to figure out why you have to buy petrol by the gallon. I can buy a really big coffee, almost twice as much, for 10c more than the medium coffee. But 10 gallons of gas costs ten times one gallon. No discount. I wonder why?

Anyway, getting from the DMV office, a miserable place if I've ever seen one, what with the red-tie wearing supervisor leaning against a file cabinet pretending he's important and the prick he looks to be. He probably spends his weekend's in a maid's outfit, tied up with red cord. :-)

Not that I'd know anything about such things. I've only seen pictures of ... Isn't it nice weather we're having?

So I asked directions. A bored cop gave me some, but I couldn't tell what he said between his yawns. I hope he managed to stay awake for his entire shift. Perhaps someone could get angry at a form and permit the man some excitement? "The defendant is charged with getting angry at a DMV form, y'honor!" "Release him immediately and bring the me the head of the form designer!" ... We can fantasize about indulgent authorities, I hope?

And then I almost ran into another cop when we both got confused about who's right of way it was. As it was mine the cop looked daggers at me and I perkily smiled at him. And then worried if he'd give me a ticket simply for being nice. (Half the people I come across on this blog would do that, I know!) Anyway, I set off for my coffee. I passed over I295, so I knew I was going in the right direction. And a short time later I passed under I 295. So I knew I was going in some direction. And then I passed under it again. And then I drove through the most depressing sight I've ever seen - a housing development. My goodness, I no longer wonder why there's so much hellfire and brimstone in modern religion. Purgatory looked a lot nicer in that TV series. Escaping that particular gulag I came across Parkville Rd. "I know Parkville Rd!" I said to myself. Indeed I do. But I was perpendicular to it and had no idea which way to go knew to turn right left! So I did. I passed the supermarket I'd passed not a half hour before and then recognized my next landmark: Route 45. Whew. I knew where I was.

Who knew that I had such unerring sense of direction? :-)

Carolyn Ann