Lost Driver Finds Her Fears Unfounded

After years of driving the Los Angeles freeways, cataracts limiting distance vision plus arm surgery forced me to use surface roads.

Even after successful surgery on one eye and greatly improved arm movement, I was now living in Orange County and still avoiding the freeways. So when I had to travel to Kaiser medical offices in Irvine, I studied my map, wrote down the route and made the trip with no trouble.

After two hours of waiting, my examination was completed, and I started back home. Exhilarated by the perfect drive to my destination, I was full of confidence on the return trip. It was a beautiful day, and I was sailing along, radio on, when I began to suspect something wrong. Nothing seemed familiar.

I was virtually alone on this well-paved road. I kept driving, searching for a familiar street, a gas station, a business, a human being. None was to be seen.

It began to feel unreal, as if I were the only person on earth. Finally, I came to Jamboree Road, which I recognized as a main street, turned onto it and found an oasis in this wilderness--a major intersection with not one but two gas stations. The people at one listened to my problem, and when I declined to take the freeway, they told me to continue on Jamboree--a long way, they said--to Irvine Center Drive. I didn’t mind the distance at all, as long as I was heading in the correct direction.

After a long drive, I was suddenly sucked up onto a toll road, with no escape hatch, no person and no change in my wallet.

I did the only thing possible, ran through the red toll light and exited at the first offramp, which led to another developing area. By now I was a little unnerved, thinking of the money I’d be charged for illegal entrance to a toll road and hoping jail time was not a possibility. I saw two young men walking, pulled up at the curb and asked if they could direct me to Laguna Hills. I was told to make a U-turn, turn left at the signal and drive to a certain street that would lead me to the Santa Ana Freeway.

By this time, entering a freeway--as opposed to spending the remainder of my life lost in Orange County--was an easy choice. I found the freeway, entered, drove happily along, handled the intersection with the San Diego Freeway like a pro and soon saw the sign with the words “Laguna Hills.”

In a short time, a wonderful exit sign read “El Toro,” two most magical words. I was home a few minutes later. Freeways are, once again, my friends.