by Matt Bird

Created on: May 28, 2009

Before I get started on my story, I need to explain one thing. My town has a central street, Harwood Avenue, running right down the middle of it. You can't cross from one side of town into the other without going across Harwood. This is an important point, so keep it in mind.

A few years ago I was headed over to my (now ex) girlfriend's house. At this point our relationship was still relatively fresh, and consequently I didn't have a great idea where her house was. The only other time I'd gone over she had led me there on the bus.

Being the typical male that I am, though, I assured her that I could easily find the place on my bike. "I have a great memory for finding places I've gone," I told her on the phone, and generally speaking it's true: I suck with street names, but I'm great with just plain knowing where I'm going. I didn't figure I'd have too much trouble.

So off I went, straight down Harwood Avenue. Easy peasy so far. I knew the area well, the day was nice, my pace was good. It was a great day to be alive. Soon enough I was in her general area of town, and though I obviously hadn't spent as much time there as my own slice this was still the town I'd grown up in. Getting lost? Pshaw.

Moving down from Harwood I headed on to the next major street which eventually connects with hers, Westney. A fairly major street in its own right, and pretty long to boot, but still not completely unfamiliar to my eyes. I cycled down the length of it and found the public school near her house, knowing full well that crossing through its boundaries would take me to my destination.

Unfortunately the kids were out, and I knew that teachers on yard duty wouldn't take kindly to my intrusion on their territory. So I decided to skirt around the school, take a back street and end up at basically the same place. Right? Right.

Yeah, wrong.

Within a few minutes I'd managed to find another public school, one I didn't even know existed, sitting at the base of an enormous hill. Thinking I must have somehow ended up at the wrong elevation, I headed up this hill (at great pains to my thighs) and back into the town houses. It was rapidly becoming apparent to me that I didn't know this part of town so well.

Twenty minutes later I was no closer to finding her house than before. Worse, I appeared to be on a completely unfamiliar yet major street. I pedalled down it for a little while then headed back into the town houses, hoping to locate some other major road that might help me out. Westney would have been preferable.

Another twenty minutes later, after dozens of twists and turns, I emerged once again from the town houses.

And, somehow, I was on the opposite side of Harwood.

To this day I have no idea how I managed it. Obviously I'd crossed Harwood at SOME point (not to mention Westney), but my mind must have been in such a confused haze that I'd not even noticed. Which is quite a feat, considering how notable Harwood is.

Needless to say, this only served to completely boggle me. I was further away from my destination than ever.

I got there eventually. It was a long, grueling journey back to that stupid school, but my second go met with more luck, as the kids had all gone inside. I was safe.

My girlfriend asked why I was so late. As I recall I chalked my tardiness up to an inconvenient case of teleporting bike, and I think I'll stick with that excuse for as long as I live.

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