Did you ever see the old Sylvester the Cat cartoon, where he sings, “Ya never know where you’re ’til you get there”? Well, that was Dad and me yesterday.
We decided to go to our pre-pandemic favorite Mexican restaurant on Sunday, instead of Saturday. We got ready in a snap, prepped the house as we usually do when we leave: turned off lights, unplugged unnecessary items, etc. Then we ventured out, happy to be getting away from the same ol’ routine and four walls that we call home.
I drive because Dad prefers it that way. He says, “I could have a heart attack while I’m driving!” I always say in response, “I could have a heart attack while I’m driving too, Dad!” But, I digress. We’re a few miles down the road and Dad mentions taking the shortcut because last time it (the dirt road) was solid and not muddy, as we expected it to be after so much rain. So, I slowed down, signaled, and turned left onto the dirt road. We were nearly halfway to our destination when Dad asks me, “Isn’t this the way to West Plains?” We were supposed to be going to Mountain Home, AR which was entirely a different direction! “What the literal fuck!” I exclaimed. I don’t know what we were thinking…maybe we weren’t thinking at all! We had been talking and when he mentioned the shortcut, I took it. Ugh.
Thankfully, I knew how to get to the road we really needed to take from where we were. Our drive was long, but the weather was nice, our lunch was superb and we had a nice day. We drove at the very least 45 minutes out of our way. We took the scenic route, for sure! One of these days we’re going to be driving and not know where we’re going at all…until we get there!