Back to the future? Not a chance...

It’s happened to me many times before.

I’m sure that many of you have experienced a similar loss too, on occasion.

It can be downright annoying, frustrating even when it occurs, but what are you going to do? It’s a part of life. Suck it up and get on with it.

Yesterday I lost a half hour of my life I will never get back.

TLATO et moi were in Toronto for the better part of the day. We drove in early to meet at Sheryl’s Mum’s condo. We were to meet her two brothers and their family’s. From there we were all driving to a nearby cemetery where Joe, Sheryl’s Dad and nephew, Dylan had been laid to rest.

A family visit to gravesites prior to Yom Kippur, the day of atonement is a tradition observed by Jews regardless of their degree of practicing Judaism. Over the years, I’ve been fortunate to observe various facets of this religion as Sheryl’s family have shared traditions and holidays; it all goes to broadening perspectives, something more of us might consider in the pursuit of our hopes and dreams.

After spending some time at both graves celebrating the lives of both men, we all returned to Sheryl’s Mums’ house. Janette and her husband George are always gracious hosts and in true tradition, went overboard in ensuring that all their guests were well fed and watered before they themselves sat down to eat. The time passed all too quickly; it’s not too often we all get together like this, but when it happens, it’s a raucous occasion, to be sure. Lots of laughter, some tears and then more laughter.

The time came for us to leave. The house was quiet for an hour or so prior to our departure so we could spend some “quality” time with George and Janette. Leftovers were wrapped, hugs exchanged, “I love yous” uttered and we were off.

After about 10 minutes in the car, TLATO decided to call Nancy; Nancy was looking in on Ben during the day to let him out to take care of business while we were away. All was well, and Sheryl told Nancy we should be home in about 90 minutes.

Now, for those of you that may both be familiar with the following fact, Sheryl is one of those individuals that can be directionally challenged; it’s a family thing, too by all accounts.

So, we get off the highway and are now driving on some beautiful country roads. The colours, although likely not quite at their peak were outstanding, the weather not too bad. All in all, pretty good conditions for a Sunday drive.

Approaching a familiar (to me) point in the road, Sheryl decided she would like to go a different way. A way, she said, she had not been. How prophetic. Not only was it unfamiliar to both of us, I believe that the great Canadian explorer, Jacques Cartier would have been hard-pressed to find himself had he too followed our route. For the record, we were driving Sheryl’s car – no navigation system and a broken compass.

We continued east on this road. Sheryl soon realized we had, indeed, driven this route before. However, instead of turning right which would have taken us onto an oft-travelled road, Sheryl decided that we should bear left. Now, at this point I could have said no and things would have been relatively OK. I did not. Why escapes me even today. So we headed what we assumed was north (overcast, much tree cover so a navigational mistake could have been made). On we drove. “Turn left here”. “Go straight”. This went on for about ten minutes. I was aware that I had no clue where we were. I had a rough idea, but that was it. We had not seen another car in some time. The roads were occasionally country dirt roads. When we did see any houses, they looked like something where the Peacock family from X-Files might have lived. I started humming the familiar refrain from “Deliverance” and locked all the doors as we continued on our journey.

“So,” I said. “Panicking yet?”

“Only on the inside, “ she responded quietly nervously folding and unfolding a map.

We drove though a few small villages that were not mentioned on any map. Nothing looked even vaguely familiar. I suggested that Nancy might be called again; we might not get home to let Ben out for some time yet.

Surprisingly enough, I remained, for me, relatively civil throughout all this. I never even raised my voice. I made it clear, however, that it would be a cold day in hell before I listened to directions from her again.

From out of nowhere we saw a small, twisted shotgun-pellet peppered sign that had a name we both recognized. All was not lost. The sun broke through the clouds. We could now determine the direction we were travelling. North and east. Perfect. Within a few minutes, we both recognized some of the surrounding landmarks. There would be no search party this day.

The detour had not really taken us much out of our way. It had, as I alluded earlier, removed a half hour from my existence which I would never regain.

“Why did you listen to me?” Sheryl almost pleaded, expecting the maelstrom that ordinarily might be sent in her general direction from my oft bitter-tongued mouth. But today, there would be none of that. I decided to add this to the life ledger; save it for another time when it would be needed. That was not today.

The detour did have one adverse effect… I had to pee like a race horse and home and civilization was still a good half hour away. A country pit stop was called for and made. And TLATO said nothing. Not a darned thing.