Lost and Found

When I was fifteen, I earned my learner’s permit but couldn’t legally drive without an adult in the car. One night, my mother’s car broke down on the other side of town, and since no one else was available, my father took me with him to pick up the abandoned car. 

We had a plan—he would get the other car started and drive it back, I would follow him home, and it would all work perfectly.

Well, it was winter, and as we approached the stalled vehicle, it began to rain heavily. It was also evening, so it was dark. Because it was rush hour, there was a lot of traffic. My father repeated that I was to stay very close to his car and follow him home.

I promised that I would.

He got out and I moved to the driver’s seat feeling nervous but very grown up. I watched him get the other car started and prepared to follow.

Suddenly, a long stream of traffic came between us, and though I was watching carefully, I immediately lost him as he pulled away. Worried, I signaled and merged into the line of cars. It was dark and the rain fell harder and harder.

I couldn’t see anything at all, let alone his vehicle.

To make matters worse, I realized that my lane would merge onto the freeway and that I didn’t have time to change lanes! And just moments later, I found myself traveling at full speed toward San Francisco! 

I was fifteen, didn’t have a driver’s license, and was headed west on the open highway.

I knew that could not be right! Somehow, I had to get off the freeway and turn around. 

So at the next exit I veered off and found myself in a dark, deserted industrial area. I was scared to death but I forced myself to breathe evenly—in, out, in, out.

I came to a fork in the road and hesitated. Sending a quick prayer up to heaven, I turned right, drove a hundred feet, and there, in front of me, very well lit, stood a huge sign that said “Sacramento” and an arrow—that way! 

What a relief! I was shaking all over but I could find my way now.

About forty minutes later, I pulled into our driveway and reached up to hit the button to open the garage door. As the door lifted, I saw my father sitting on the floor of the garage, still in his overcoat, his head in his hands. 

I have never seen him look so frightened, before or since.

I explained, cheerfully, that I got lost but that I saw a sign for Sacramento and turned around. He just nodded—pale, sweaty, and silent. 

When I walked by his armchair later that evening, he reached out and squeezed my hand.

I did learn something that night, though not how to follow another vehicle successfully.

I learned that a situation can spiral out of control fairly quickly.

And I learned that if I focus, and ask for help, I can find my way home again.