Getting lost in the Bootheel is my new normal

So.  Driving around on my own in the Bootheel is not my favorite thing. I've said it before and I will probably keep on saying it but . . . it is so darn flat out here.  Between two Highways with almost the same set of numbers (I-55 and I-155), no one gets turned around faster than I do.  If I didn't feel comfortable with in-town driving, I'd probably get lost going around the block and, yes, that has happened but not recently.

The first time my GPS failed me I was driving over to Rev. Courtney Sanders' Church of God in Christ in Hayti to meet up with my friend Jessica for a ladies' tea at her church. It was a fun afternoon but my GPS completely failed me.  Had I just taken the freeway overpass and continued on to Hayti Heights, I would have arrived several minutes sooner.  But, no.  My GPS obliged me by first sending me south to I-155 N.  Then I took the Caruthersville/Hayti exit and crossed the overpass and then was instructed by the GPS to turn left and go South on I-155 (are you kidding me???) and then take the Hwy 412 exit.  Completely lost and now in heretofore unexplored territory, I was directed to turn right on Mallory Street so of course, I turned one block too soon.  One U-turn, a right, and then another right later, I finally arrived.  I now know the front entrance and the back entrance to Mallory Street. I'll take the front entrance next time AND go down Truman Boulevard and drive through Hayti to get there.

I should have had this circular route in mind when I drove out to Colemama's Restaurant to pick up my Thanksgiving pies.  Question. Did I go down South Ward or did I take Highway U to find Highway D?  Solution.  Check my GPS.  And, I did.  My first clue that this was not going to end well was when I crossed over I-155 and found myself looking at homes on my left.  When I passed Beverly Tipton's house, I knew I had been snookered by my GPS.

Now, at this point, any rational person would do a 180 and return to Steven's Corner and take Highway U.  However, it was daylight and rational was not behind the wheel.  How bad could this get?  Surely there was a cross-connecting road to Highway D, my ultimate destination.  Well, there was no such thing and I was about to learn a new meaning for the word bad.

Bad is when it is raining.  Bad is when it is raining and clearly your GPS is leading you on a merry chase.  Bad is when you end up on a gravel road.  BAD is when you realize you are now down at the bottom of the levee and tire traction is not happening.  Mud, gravel, potholes, and wet spots had me sliding all over the place.  I had a levee to my left and a really deep ditch to my right. Telling myself to "get a grip" didn't go too well for me.  I had no idea where I was, and sorry locals, but I was hearing banjos.

Finally, the GPS tells me to turn right in 1,000 feet.  I would now be on County Rd. 452.  Yeah, right.  I missed it.  There was so much mud and gravel that by the time I actually saw it, County Rd. 452 was behind me.    At this point, any rational person would notice that there were no vehicles behind her.  Nor had there been any vehicles behind her since this little adventure started.  And on I went.  My next instruction was to turn left at the next turn.  Left?  Isn't that the levee on my left?  Isn't water behind the levee? Like a river of water?  I turned left and stopped.  My now traitorous GPS instructed me to keep going up the hill and turn left at the next left.  I looked up and thought, no way.  Rationality kicked in.  There was no way I was going to drive on the top of the levee. I backed up.

Backing up is a little bit nerve-wracking when you don't know where the ditches are and you don't have a fancy little gizmo on the dash that shows you what is behind you and exactly where it is behind you.  My 3-point turn was accomplished in 6 and finally, pointed in the right direction, levee now on my right, I continued forward.   GP freaking S took a moment to speak again.  I ignored it and turned left at my former right turn even though it was now chirping a different set of numbers at me.  Hah.  That will show you.  And, you know, I actually did get to Highway D, just a little below Colemama's.

But the story doesn't end here, my friends.  Gina's grand-daughters brought my pies and gave me a coke.  Gina was hustling my take out for dinner.  I told the girls my story and they thought I was pretty hilarious and laughed at me as only middle schoolers can do.  Then they dropped the other shoe.  Highway D, on the other end, was closed.  I heard something about a new culvert being put in as I fell into a deep, dark place.  No. Freaking. Way.  I was not going on those gravel roads again.  My acquaintance with the levee was done.

 I called Jane Medlin.  Turns out the culvert work was being done right in front of her house but the workers were gone for the day.  She invited me to stop in but at that point, the only thing I wanted was my nice warm, dry house.  I was on the second day of a miserable cold and I was exhausted.  Depleted, in fact. I waved as I drove by and she called me and told me I was now clear all the way.  Today I found my detailed county map.  It's staying in my glove box.