I've been to my 47th year high school reunion, a picnic. This is the Depot replica, a perfect place for a meeting. We were mostly a group of prematurely bald men and prematurely blonde women.
I had a great time coming home yesterday when I realized I'd missed the turn for Hwy 27 in LaGrange and was on Hwy 219 where I'd never been, and without a map. I kept on 219 until it turned south and I kept east. When I came to a 4-way stop, I turned south again (the road name was Hamilton-something) and went down Pine Mountain on a good paved, winding county road. Great views, ending in Hamilton. Took a left and a right and I was on 27 again by sheer luck.
Here's my travel philosophy: with a gas credit card and a compass, you can keep going. If I come to water, I'll know if it's the Atlantic, or the Chattahoochee River and I'll know which way to turn. If I'm going north, eventually I'm going to reach Atlanta or Chattanooga. South, I'll reach I-10. I know the way home from all of those. I can always find a familiar landmark in Atlanta, where I've been lost before numerous times. "Oh, I've been lost here before," I say, and turn left, turn right, turn around.