July 2005

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When we were riding through Durham on Saturday I was reminded of the first time I had ever driven over there from Chapel Hill. I was going to visit my cousin Virginia. I had called to make sure I had the directions correct. Since I had been to her home a number of times, I didn't think I needed to be directed past the cross street. I did, after all, know what the house looked like.

All was well on the way there. All the major roads were just where I thought they'd be, and all the intersections likewise. I got to the street on which she lived, and started looking for the house.

And couldn't find it. I was sure it was supposed to be on my right. I was driving very slowly, thankful there was no other traffic. At the end of the street, I decided to go around the block and try again, sure that I had just somehow missed it.

Trip two along the street was equally fruitless. No house. I knew I was on the correct street, in the correct block, so it must be that something had changed since the last time I had been there. I wondered if she had done some landscaping and not mentioned it. I wondered where the nearest pay telephone was (this was long before cell phones), in case I couldn't find the house on trip three.

Turns out Virginia had seen me drive by. She had seen me diligently looking at houses on my right, and knew I'd be making another pass along the street. And she knew what the problem was. So she solved it. As I was beginning trip three, Virginia was in her front yard, shouting to her neighbor across the street. She was heard to say, "Stop that fool driving the black car; she's looking for me!"

The neighbor waved at me and pointed across the street. Sure enough, there was Virginia (and her house), on my left. We laughed over that one for years to come.