I love those commercials for the TomTom personal navigation system. The driver keeps asking his passenger, "Mary, Mary, is this where I turn?" "Bill, Bill, do I take a left right here?" There's just something sweet about them because nobody is angry that they don't know where the hell they are. They just calmly and cluelessly drive around trying to get wherever they're going.
Tonight I was Laurie Laurie. Reminiscent of the time Jack (then known as Wang Chi) and I got Susan in St. Paul unlost in Iowa, I was at the helm of my mighty computer while my sister and brother-in-law were lost in the wilds of Jefferson County. Because of an accident on Interstate 10, my sister and her husband were forced to venture into the vast unknown regions of western Jefferson County as emergency workers worked to clear the highway.
Getting people unlost in a rural area is different than helping someone find, say, a sushi bar in Boston. As I was directing Terry first north then east and back to west again, I told her, "Okay, now Lawhon road will eventually become Pignut Road."
"What?" asked Terry.
Terry asked, "Who would name a street Pignut Road?"
"Someone who is very fond of pigs, I suppose," I said.
Terry said, "I don't see any signs."
"Would you want people to know you lived on Pignut Road?" I asked.
"Come to think of it," Terry said, "I haven't seen any houses."
"Would you build a house on Pignut road?" I was trying to make a point.
I think they're going to be late for Katie's football game tonight, but, hey, at least we know where Pignut Road is. Not everybody can say that.