When signs are confusing
We’ve been out on some back roads today. Our fault; we thought that the destination was simple to find and left all our clues at home. With no white pebbles or breadcrumbs to lead the way, we used the GPS to drive in progressively tighter circles.
Our goal was to find a cottage that belonged to people we don’t know. We found that there are a lot of cottages that fit that description. And, given that the group was very goal-directed and equipped with one cellphone, we never were separated for more than twenty minutes at a stretch. If only we’d remembered to take a map, or a phone number or something more than wishful thinking. We did get to have a meal at the Gillis Drive-In. I wonder if walking in to the parking lot and flashing a light would get me service (as advertised). After all, a shopping cart has qualified me for drive-thru service at Burger Thing in town.
We did our first bout of wardriving this evening. Thankfully the pouring rain served to lessen the curiousity of the proprietors as to why we were parked in their driveway, with two vehicles, for close to twenty minutes without us running for the door.
On the way back to the “other cottage”, I paid more attention to signs. In particular, the new ones east of town that have a number. Only. We are curious about what attractions lie behind 88, 89, 94, 93, 91. In that order. Forget consecutives.
I can see where the new tourist has probably come with more than enough regional information. What about the rest of us? Those who have been down that road before. Since when does a number qualify as identification for a tourist attraction? Mysterious way of doing business.
