Lost

It’s a proven fact that my personal sense of direction is almost non-existent! I love the country, all of the fresh mountain air and wonderful country roads. The problem is that I just can’t seem to get the hang of certain parts of country living.

Everything around me is two dirt roads to the right and one to the left. I can and do get lost in the middle of downtown Eldred. Anybody who knows me, knows this to be true. I grew up in New Jersey where we had some luxury items you don’t always get in the country. The roads are marked and the towns are square. Every house has a number and every street has a name. If you do get lost, all you have to do is keep making rights until you get to a main road. Street signs are just something that I am used to.

When I first moved here I was taken with the natural beauty of a winding dirt road. I got a kick out of driving down a side street named after someone that I might be sitting next to in a coffee shop. It was fun, until I got my real estate license.

Thinking back to my first appointment, I was so excited and green; I only knew two listings. My first appointment was on the way up from Long Island and I needed to prepare. How would I find the two listings, I wondered. A seasoned agent offered some advice. “You have some time before they arrive, and I am sure that you can read a map, so just take mine and plot your driving route.”

I should have noticed that she had a certain gleam in her eye as she handed me a map of Smallwood. I took map reading in school, just how hard could it be anyway, I thought. “Make a right turn at the red, log-sided cabin.” Sounded easy enough, so I grabbed the map and ran out the door. I made it into Smallwood without any problems and down the road indicated on the map. Then I passed one on the map, but missing in front of me. The other agent forgot to mention that in Smallwood the roads are on paper but have never been built. Maybe if I find the red, log sided cabin I’ll be okay, I thought. There were about 50 log-sided, red cabins and they were identical. Time was ticking and I had to make my way back to the office for help.

I found the other agent, who was sitting at her desk still chuckling over my dilemma. From that moment on I knew that if I had an appointment in that community I had to either drop breadcrumbs or tie ribbons on the major trees along the route. So I did, and when I was done I would cut down the ribbons and no one was the wiser for it.

Still learning, I ventured into Jeffersonville, again with a listing and complete directions. Make a right at “Donkey Corners,” the listing said. That too, sounded easy enough. So I drove around forever, looking for the street sign. I didn’t know that there had really been a live donkey that just happened to always be standing on a corner, which had unfortunately passed away. These days there is a wooden one holding a sign. After 13 years in this business, I finally know better. Now I bring my dirt road map wherever I’m going.

Last week I headed into the office. My associate greeted me with, “so do you want the good news or the bad news.” The good news was that we had a closing date. The bad news was that it was in Goshen. Goshen? I just got the hang of Callicoon! I knew I must leave three hours early, because I just know... I prayed to the map gods to have mercy on me. This had been a difficult transaction from the beginning and I didn’t have the strength to get lost.

So, “make a right at the traffic light and go toward the armory.” Sounded too simple. But I couldn’t find the armory and wound up heading down a dirt road somewhere in Orange County. I looked at my watch, seeing that my extra time was rapidly disappearing. What luck, I saw some of our boys in blue. I checked and made sure that I had my seat belt on and that my cell phone was someplace else, just in case they were having a not-so-nice day.

I pulled along side and in my best damsel-in-distress voice I proceeded to beg. “You see officers, I only have ten minutes left and I have been traveling for three hours. (They didn’t need to know that two of those hours were actually spent in Goshen.) Please help me find this attorney’s office.”

The officers looked at me and shook their heads. “Just go to the end, make a left, a quick right past the playground and to the meat market sign.”

I already knew that I would never make it to the meat market sign. I know my weaknesses and I am not afraid to beg. “Would it be too much trouble if, well, you could maybe, well, if I just followed you guys.”

Luckily, they saw the twisted look on my face and agreed. I sort of liked it. I pulled into the law office as the buyers where arriving, and I felt sort of important receiving a police escort. It really was the first right after the light. If I’m going to get lost, I might as well do it in style. I offered the boys in blue some pretzels and waved good-bye.