WHICH WAY?

Cee’s Which Way Photo Challenge – January 26, 2018


Who knows the way? Not me, I can assure you of that. If there is a direction to be found, I will not find it, at least not from memory. I can use a map, though.

Brookline along the trolley tracks

Photo: Garry Armstrong

Another way to climb

Autumn on Aldrich Street

Back from Boston



Categories: #Photography, Cee's Photo Challenge, Roads, Traffic, Transportation, Travel

Tags: , , , , ,

13 replies

  1. I like your other way to climb. 😀 😀

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    • Thank you 🙂 Usually, I use it to haul heavy packages. I can make it up the stairs if I don’t have to carry anything. Sometimes I ride in it just to confuse the dogs 😀

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  2. I never leave home without Waze open and ready to direct me on my phone! 🙂

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    • My GPS is wrong SO often, I’ve give up on using it most of the time. I keep it in the car, just in case, but I print directions before we travel and i keep maps in the car, too. The problem is that the GPS gets very confused by the huge number of traffic cams in Boston and it literally doesn’t know what road is which. These machines worked better 5 years ago than they do now.

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    • Daily, I have CD’s of “my” music. Sinatra, Bennett, Day, etc ready to go in the car. I usually get stuck on a sports yak station and lose track of time. I’d feel better if I played the music. Gotta remember the next time.

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  3. I had to drive in to Toronto to buy some tile for our demolished basement floor. I missed the turn off and got stuck in a traffic jam. Nobody would let me in. I think I could have sat there for hours and not moved. Finally there was a clearing, but I’m just glad I don’t have to do that every day,
    Leslie

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  4. I also often get confused which way I am going, especially when traffic routes are changed. Even computer ways lead me astray. Your photos show some good contrasts, even indoors can have many ways

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    • Thanks 🙂

      I get lost going from the kitchen to the bathroom. NO sense of direction. When we travel, we are almost always lost and sometimes, we don’t get there at all. Garry can’t find anything either. We are kind of pathetic.

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      • Still remember my last misadventure. Just a few weeks ago, heading to the funeral of a dear friend who knew my penchant for getting lost and showing up late.

        Started early, determined NOT to miss my friend’s last goodbye. Heavy traffic was the first but not unexpected detour. Once I was in the vicinity, I lost my bearings. The frustration grew as I stared at the clock.

        I got stuck in the middle of a Police speed trap jam. I slammed my hands on the car wheel, profanities jumping out of my mouth. I got out of the car to ask for help from one of the officers handing out tickets. I was told to get back in my car, that I was hindering the police. The anger was boiling as I pleaded for help. “I’m LOST, sir. Can you HELP me!”. The Officers glared at me. Finally, one recognized my dilemma and gave me directions to the Temple. He smiled and apologized for the other men in blue.

        The directions to the Temple were not true blue. More stops and requests. I could HEAR my heart thumping each time I glanced at the car clock. I was yelling, screaming at myself. I knew how angry my friend would be for missing his funeral!

        After what seemed like a lifetime, I pulled into the Temple parking lot. It was emptying out fast. I spotted a Rabbi getting into his car. I pulled over and jumped out. “Help me, I’m here for the ____ funeral. I’m a close friend. I got lost, I got lost”. The Rabbi listened to me patiently. “You. You. You’re the guy. I’ve watched you for many years on television. You are very good!” I thanked the Rabbi and told him I’d been snared in traffic hell and missed my good friend’s funeral and felt terrible. The Rabbi looked at me with great patience. “You are one we trust on television. You are very good!” I thanked the Rabbi again and asked for directions to the cemetery. He looked puzzled. “I don’t know. I have a another funeral. It’s a busy day for funerals. A busy day for Rabbis. Shalom. my son”.

        Shalom, indeed!

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