Lost In Boston

Later I found out where I made the mistake. I had crossed over the Tobin Bridge (three bucks) and saw a sign for 1A, the very same road I had followed south from Gloucester. My intent was to follow 16 west and avoid going through downtown Boston. I did not know where the Big Dig exactly is, but I thought it would be wise to avoid it even if Gov Mitt had recently given it the thumbs up.

Except, I landed somewhere near the Boston Airport and Winthrop on 145. I did not know where I was, or how to get out of Boston. So I pulled over, peed (always a good idea to work on an empty bladder) and sighed at the pile of books on the floor in the RV. They had all tumbled out of the cabinets over the table while I wormed my way from some dark tunnel near Logan Airport. Crap. Let’s not spoil the inventory. Even if I can’t sell it, let’s keep it looking good for the yard sale.

“God if ever I needed a Shepherd, it is now.” I pulled away from the curb and there was a sign for 1A North. It wasn’t exactly where I wanted to go, but since I was about as far south as I wanted to go on this little peninsula, it worked. But how I got from where I was back to 1, I didn’t know. After all,l I traveled over this huge Bridge, yet immediately I found myself back on the very same bridge headed in the very same direction I needed to go—south on 93. I don’t know how it happened.

The toll booth lady recognized me. "Weren’t you just here?"

"I got lost", almost noticing a crack in my voice.

"Do you know where you are going now?"

"Yes, I-93. I sort of lost it." Again I handed her three dollars and asked for a receipt.

She advised, "okay, just stay in the left lane."

Thank you, Lord. I know where I am going, but I need your help.