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My wife and I have a simple rule when we travel to parts unknown by car: I drive and she navigates.

The reason for this is twofold: I am a lousy passenger who turns green riding shotgun and I have a sense of direction worthy of Christopher Columbus. (Dude was headed to the Far East and landed in the West Indies. Truly a man I can relate to.)

I am, to be charitable, directionally challenged.

That might play into the male stereotype of guys who get lost and then never ask for directions but that is not me.

I am unafraid to ask for directions. Where I run afoul is in following them.

My internal compass is like a pinwheel in a hurricane.

I recall having to earn a patch as a Cub Scout and one of the assignments was to give directions to various landmarks, including a hospital. I recall telling my mother that the patient would be dead by the time I would be done giving directions.

“I am pretty sure you make a right at the dry cleaners. Or is it a left? You will see the Carvel on the corner. Oh. You know what? That’s now a burger joint. Say, have you thought about maybe just calling an ambulance?”

Before the introduction of GPS devices, I would get even more epically lost than I do now.

I would print out the directions from MapQuest, confident in my route. But one of two things would happen:

1. I would be driving at night and be unable to properly read the directions without turning on the overhead lamp and blinding myself.

2. I would have to peer over my glasses (which I need for driving) in order to properly read the text and I would be unable to do more than just take a glimpse at a time because I was driving, which, in turn, would mean I would miss my turn or exit.

What is this concept of “coordinated” you speak of?

On more than one occasion I would call Meg and ask her to consult directions online and help me untangle the travel knot I had tied myself into.

It would be routine for me to have hour-long trips become 90 minutes long.

I fare better on mass transit, particularly New York City’s subway system, but once I emerge above ground, it’s like I have been blindfolded and spun around.

My dad, who knew the city like his own name, would give directions like: “You want to proceed west on 44th Street and then we will meet at the southeast corner of …”

I lost him as soon as he said “proceed west.”

I am much more a visual learner. Tell me that if I suddenly get to the East River I have gone the wrong way, and I will understand. But directions? Utterly meaningless for me.

Thanks to the introduction of smartphones, and improvements in the way apps deliver real-time traffic information and directions, I am slowly better about getting from here to there.

Without the GPS or smartphone, I’d be lost.

Come to think of it, I AM lost.

Can someone tell me how to get to the Poconos from Cuba?

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By Christopher Mele

Mele’s Musings

Christopher Mele is married and dad of two sons and two stepchildren. His childhood in the Bronx defined his friendships, which endure today. A career newsman, writer and editor, the Lords Valley resident is glad to share stories and insights about the challenges that the modern-day middle-aged guy faces. Reach Chris at [email protected].