Thank goodness for Google

Oct. 16, 2008

WHERE I AM: Robyn and Rosana's apartment in Boston.
WHAT I DID TODAY: Had breakfast at Magnolia's in Burlington, Vermont. Supposedly it is the first certified "green" cafe in the nation. It was good...but really pricey. Any other day I would have been upset by the price. Today? It's my birthday. Splurges are allowed, right? After breakfast, I drove from Burlington to Concord, New Hampshire, to Boston. I realize I may be a little sleep deprived right now, but the colors once again made me cry. Who am I to be able to see such magnificence? Who am I to walk among God's creation?
WHAT I’M DRINKING: Water. I think I’m dehydrated. Too much coffee.
WHERE I'M GOING TOMORROW: New York, New York. The Big Apple.

All I can say today is thank goodness for Google Maps. And people who can read them…and help me get un-lost.
Let me explain.
I rented a car in Boston, my first ever, mentioned in previous blog entries as the Toyota Yaris that takes me far-ish. Driving in Maine, New Hampshire and Vermont was no problem. I was even doing pretty well in Boston, a city notorious for being confusing, intimidating and all-around mean to drivers weaned into the world of wheels in the wide open spaces of the West. Like me.
But then there was a truck. A really big truck. Right behind me. In a skinny tunnel. Its headlights filled my rearview mirror, glowing, menacing, like the eyes of a tiger zoned on its prey.
I gripped the wheel, pursed my lips and coaxed the gas pedal.
My exit!
A glance at the mirror!
What the…?!
Yes, I cursed. I missed my exit. That’s what happens to people who curse.
I was lost. My gas tank was nearly empty. My car was due back in 20 minutes – with a full tank.
Panic.
Tears.
Half dials to 911 – and home.
I called Jill. No answer. It was the middle of the work day. I tried Robyn. Then Amy. I had only met Amy once, at midnight the night I arrived in Boston. She answered.
I called out street names as I passed. I dodged pedestrians, got sucked into one-ways and whipped around rotaries. I had the easy job. Amy somehow tracked my insane path on Google Maps and guided me out.
Tears.
Fist pumps into the air.
Car returned at 3:59 p.m. Empty. You can’t win them all.
Thanks, Amy. I owe you one.