On one of my early adventures as a field editor, I attended a field day in north-central Illinois. I was so taken by the flat lands after seeing trees in Indiana all my life that I didn’t pay a lot of attention to how I got there on the way over.

After the event, I pulled onto an Illinois state highway, and headed home. Or at least I thought I headed home. But as I went 5 miles, then 10, then 20, a nagging feeling developed. So, I looked closer at the next state road sign.

Wait a minute! Did that say “west” in small letters?

It sure did. I had just driven 25 miles in the wrong direction. I was headed farther west. I was dumb enough to tell my friends, and the legend of Wrong-way Tom was born.

That was nearly 40 years ago. Eventually, I figured out east from west, and north from south.

Deja vu

As Yogi Berra once said, “This is deja vu — I just relived the whole thing again.” And if you don’t know who Yogi Berra is, the rest of the story probably won’t make sense anyway.

Earlier this summer, I headed to Corydon, Ind., to judge projects at a county fair. It’s not that complicated of a route from home: Take U.S. 31 south to I-65 to the I-265 loop around New Albany to I-64 west to Indiana 135 at Corydon. Getting there was no problem. My GPS is so old it couldn’t find the Harrison County Fairgrounds, but it did know where the first state capitol was in Corydon, so I went there and found the fairgrounds through signs.

I didn’t figure I needed GPS to get home, but I punched in “home” to monitor my progress timewise. I zipped back along I-64 toward Louisville, Ky., listening to some talk show, half paying attention. I caught the I-264 exit and headed around the loop.

“Half paying attention” caught up with me. I can’t stand the lady’s voice that lives inside my GPS, so I shut her off. I saw some green directions flash on the screen, but I was sure I was in the right place. I should be at about mile marker 7 or 8 and climbing, and I was seeing 7, 8, 9, 10.

Deja vu II

Uh oh! I just saw a big bridge, like a toll bridge over the Ohio River. Figuring they hadn’t moved it 20 miles north — no, surely, I didn’t miss my exit and head the wrong way.

Surely, I did. Those 7, 8, 9, 10 numbers were exit numbers. I was soon zipping across the newest bridge on the east side of Louisville into the Bluegrass State.

It couldn’t get worse … yes, it could. There were no exits nearby, and crews were working on the first exit. GPS was trying to turn me around, but the exit was closed. I drove a good 15 miles more before it finally helped me get back up I-71 toward the big bridge.

Every time you cross the bridge, a camera takes your license plate’s picture. Later, you get a toll bill. Great, I will get two!

Maybe that will help me stay more focused next time. No, probably not. Wrong-way Tom lives.