Yesterday I pushed a heavily laden cart out of the grocery store and wandered the parking lot for several disoriented minutes before eventually locating my truck. It reminded me of something that I can laugh about, now...
The Sunday morning traffic from Provo to Salt Lake is pretty thin at 5am, so we made good time traveling from our hotel to the airport where I would drop Audrey to catch her flight. My travel across country and back to our home in Florida, by way of my family's home in Iowa, began in earnest at around 6am as I crossed through SLC and entered the canyon. What a pleasant morning it was, with great weather, nearly no traffic, and happy memories of our daughter Courtney settling in to school at BYU. I made very good time and after an hour eventually stopped for gas.
Feeling a little tired, I took the time to stretch and walk around a little bit. I added 20lbs of fresh ice to the cooler so that my soda would stay cold, and also because I just wanted to do something a little bit physical after sitting for so long this early in the morning. The ice filled the cooler more than I had expected. With the lid open, I had to pull the cooler forward and balance it on the front corner of the backseat to keep the ice from tumbling out. I was leaving the lid open because I wanted to fill my Bubba-Mug (52 oz insulated mug, just perfect for car travel) with fresh ice and a few diet cokes. The mug was in the front of the truck, so I would have to walk around the open back door and reach across the front seat to grab it, and reverse my path back to the ice chest. It was a simple move which would be easily executed, but I had my eye on the cooler. I was afraid that maybe it would tip over because of the precarious perch.
I stared at it, thinking that maybe I saw it move, slightly, out of the corner of my eye. I gave it my undistracted attention for nearly a full minute and sensed no movement at all -- no little sway, not even the tiniest of wiggles was detected. I backed up and moved around the out-stretched rear door and retrieved my mug and was well on my way back to the open treasure-chest of frozen refreshment and "Slap!" went the the cooler and its contents on the parking lot just outside my truck. The ice cubes scurried in all directions like mice, and I was the cat.
To add to my own personal embarrassment at that moment, I happened to look up and notice a number of professional drivers that witnessed my ineptitude. I was at one of those truck stops frequented by the really big trucks, driven by men who lived on the road. Every few minutes a public address system belted out the announcement that showers were, at that time, available for use by the professional truck drivers. Clearly the "civilian" truck drivers were NOT invited to shower there, so I already felt a little "less-than." But now, after throwing 20lbs of fresh ice and 20 diet coke cans onto the parking lot, I felt truly inferior.
"Who really cares," I said to myself as I drove away. The cans had not burst, the ice was replenished (out $2.16 for the wasted ice), and my pride had survived larger assaults than this. Hours back on-the-road would put it all behind me. I would likely never see that truck-stop or those people ever again, anyway.
I was pretty surprised by the excellent progress that I made after the break. The road had been a little winding and slightly uphill earlier, but had now leveled off and even seemed to be dropping. Somehow I had gotten over the mountain pass with such great ease that I had barely noticed it -- in fact, I had not noticed it at all. In fact, it was not until I saw a sign that read Salt Lake City 34 that I realized that I had been driving the wrong direction -- for 60 miles.
Yep, I was nearly back where I had started from that morning. Not a damn thing to do about it, either, except to turn right around and retrace my path. I imagined the truckers and cashier all standing at the edge of the parking lot as I drove past, again, pointing and laughing at me for my second blunder so early in the morning. But they were not there. My mistake went unnoticed except by me.
It is a given, in my life, that when I leave the grocery store I will instinctively walk in the wrong direction, initially. It used to frustrate and embarrass me, but now I consider it a special talent. Anyone in my company can know the true path by just taking their bearing on MY path and going the OPPOSITE way.
