We aren’t in Indiana anymore

Indiana’s road system ruined Hubby for driving in any other state. The Indiana state forefathers placed a graph paper over the state to draw the roads on its plains. Take enough right and left turns and you find a major highway.It never works that way in my home state of upstate New York. There the old cowpaths and wagon trails around rivers, mountains and trees formed the road systems. Only the new Interstates and four-lane highways go straight. For years Hubby confidently drove us around his old stomping grounds saying, “You can get anywhere if you just go right and left.”Then we moved to Arkansas. The first time he explored the area, he took a right, found a smaller road, took a left, found a smaller road and another left or right. The road ended in a clearing with a creaking oil pump. We retraced our path home. We had no left and right options. Echoing Dorothy in Oz I said, “we are not in Indiana anymore.” Still those early driving habits remain. During our recent visit to Goshen, Ind. we stayed in a new hotel. He had not been in that area since before we moved south. As we drove past ‘new’ businesses being remodeled, Hubby kept saying, “It didn’t use to look like this.” “You did move away 43 years ago,” I reminded him. “It just looks so different.” He even needed a bit of help from my phone’s GPS to aid his usual innate sense of direction on the Indiana grid. Then we went to St. Louis to visit Nate’s family. One night, Hubby said he would go see Sophie at her new job to buy ice cream while the family went for a late night swim. I planned to stay at the house to catch up with work. Nate gave him verbal directions,“Take the main road to the right. Go past Interstate 270. It is in the shopping mall on the right.” I opened the GPS map on the phone and showed Hubby the route. I finished my tasks before he reached for his keys. “Are you going?” I asked,“Yes, but I’d like you to go.”“I’m done. I’ll go,”We drove to the corner. He started to turn left. “Where are you going? The shop is that way.” I pointed right. “No, we have to go to the Interstate,” he insisted. “I-270 not I-170,” I reminded him. “Oh.” He turned right. “I bet you are glad my GPS and I came with you. You would have wandered endlessly.” The next day as we headed home. I asked, “Do you know where to go?” “I have it.” I read a book until he saw an exit off the six lane and veered first right and then left asking “Which way do I go?”He chose left. Two miles later he muttered, “I think I should have gone the other way.”“Do you want me to get directions?” I asked. ‘No, I have it.” He drove a bit then said, “This does not look right. I better get off and get on the right road.” “Do you want me to start the GPS? We aren’t in Indiana anymore,” I reminded him.He said, “No, I have it,” just as we rounded a corner and the road became a parking lot for road equipment. “You better turn it on, ” he said.It took us a bit longer but we eventually found the yellow brick road to Arkansas.The next time I ask if he needs the GPS directions, I’m positive he will say, “No, I have it.” After all he’s from Indiana and he knows how to get from here to there.