I call my husband about once a week to figure out how to get home from some miscellaneous destination. When we lived in Alabama I could call my granddaddy from any point in the state and he could give me more specific directions than MapQuest or any GPS system. He delivered blood for Red Cross for over 30 years and knew the entire state like the back of his hand.

He was my own personal OnStar- my granddaddy knew how to give “girl directions,” none of this “go north, south, east or west” business. I’m not driving with a compass in my hand, nor am I going to get out of my car to see which side of the trees moss is growing on. He gave me directions I could understand, “Take a left after you pass Wal-Mart then go through four lights, if you pass the Dairy Queen, you’ve gone too far.”

Once we left Alabama for Savannah, Georgia, I was on my own. I had no one to call for help, and I began printing directions to and from every place I needed to go including but not limited to: the grocery store, the gym, the mall and my husband’s work. Now I know what you’re thinking, “Why would you need directions to and from the same destination? Couldn’t you just use the same set but read them in reverse or buy a map?”

That would make a lot of sense, if I could read backwards while driving or actually read a map without a 20 minute study session to figure out where the heck I am on the map. A “You are Here” sign and a red arrow would be helpful. But if I don’t even know where I am, how am I supposed to find it on a map?

Because I am a map-reading illiterate (and possibly because he was tired of receiving phone calls from me while he was trying to work) my husband took pity on my soul and bought me a GPS for my birthday last year.

This would seem like the perfect solution for a girl like me, a girl with special directional challenges. I mean, there is an actual voice giving actual directions with an actual “You are here,” sign that moves as you drive, and yet, I still manage to get lost on a regular basis.

My husband did accomplish one of his goals—I no longer call him from work when I’m lost. Because, let’s just face it, it takes a pretty high level idiocy to get lost when you have a satellite tracking your car, telling you step-by-step when and where to turn.

I have conquered Mount Pleasant…after living here for almost two years. But downtown Charleston still eludes me. I get lost every single time I go downtown, and I’m usually headed to the Children’s Museum. You would think since I’ve been there more times than I can count, I would be able to drive there in my sleep. But you would be wrong. I’ve never driven the same route more than once. I inevitably miss an exit or take a wrong turn, and end up finding my way by sheer dumb luck, which makes it kind of difficult to learn how to get somewhere.

It’s gotten so bad that every time my GPS says, “Re-cal-cu-lating,” in its robot lady voice, my 5-year-old will yell from the backseat, “Are we wost again? Ugh! I hate being wost, Momma!”

The last time I had to drive downtown I had to take Emma, my 3-year old to a doctor’s appointment. I drove directly past the same parking deck no less than four times. After the first time I knew where it was and would still drive right past it. I circled the block so many times Emma said, “Mommy, my froat is burning!” This is Emma-speak for, “Driving in circles is making me car sick, bile is beginning to rise in the back of my throat and I am about 30 seconds from throwing up.”

I’ve been in New York City for four days and I feel pretty sure if my husband hadn’t come with me, I would still be in a cab driving around the city looking for my hotel. I’m ready to come home and get lost in South Carolina again. If you see a silver Toyota Highlander doing doughnuts in downtown Charleston, just honk and wave and know that I found my way home.

(Robin O’Bryant is a Mount Pleasant resident and mother of three. Read her blog online at www.robinschicks.com or e-mail her, zebandrobin@hotmail.com.)