Not Your Grandpa’s Sherpa

Okay, so I am directionally impaired.  I admit it.  I could not find my way out of a box, if the top was open.

Apparently, so is my fourth grade son, Ben.

Driving Ben to a sleep over, it was dark.  I had been to this house once or twice, during the day.  Ben had been there one hundred plus times, each time riding his bike through a park.  Sadly, it was dark and cars cannot drive through parks.  Plus, we are both apparently directionally impaired.  In short, we were screwed.

We started approximately 1/4 mile or less from our destination.  Ben began giving me directions.  Right.  Now, left.  Now, another right.  We had driven about one mile and we suddenly found ourselves back on our street.

Then the answer came to our clueless souls.  Take roads that hug the perimeter of the park, so simple, but so right.  Stick close to the park and we would eventually stumble across the house.

Teamwork and common sense for the clueless.  That’s a winning strategy, day or night.

 

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