Wednesday, December 14, 2011


I hate to backtrack. If I take a wrong turn, I just want to press forward, find a new way, figuring it'll work out just fine. And I don't have to lose time by retracing my steps.

Sometimes, this leads to adventure. The road less traveled and all that.

Most times, it's just a character defect, leading to high drama between driving companions; battles royal between my own id and ego; edge-of-the-seat, gotta-pee-bad! thrillers; ohshiti'mgonnarunoutofgassoon cliffhangers; or just time and fuel lost forever.  

For some, this leads to death. That's what happened to a married couple recently.  A wrong turn, and instead of backtracking five miles, Elizabeth and Dana Davis pushed forward via a forest road where eventually they became stranded.  The wife died. The fact that they were in their 80s was irrelevant. Here is a poster from the Grand Canyon that I think is genius for getting a point across about the dangers of our decisions (like, uh, not backtracking):

So anyway, on our way home from our Mississippi trip today, I took a wrong turn. I didn't backtrack. I should have. [Insert melodrama here.]

On a brighter note, if I hadn't taken a wrong turn, we wouldn't have seen the 20 or so turkeys cross the road in front of us.

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