Write a story about a character driving and getting lost.

I have no idea where I am and to be honest, I have only a faint idea of where it is that I should be going. I know that I’m supposed to be meeting them at the house, but other than that the details are a little bit sketchy.

I remember seeing the message Max had sent and making a mental note of the address. I remember Sammy saying something to me about the Wolds last time we’d Facetimed. Was it the Yorkshire Wolds or the Lincolnshire Wolds? Are there even wolds in Yorkshire? I thought that wolds was a Lincolnshire only thing. What even is a wold? A small hill, a collection of small hills. Green. I know that it means green fields and hills of some sort. The Peak District is in Yorkshire, right? And there’s mountains in the Peak District because people go to climb and conquer the peaks, as in peaks of the mountains. So, definitely not hills. A hill and a mountain are distinctly different things. You don’t hear of hill climbers; they tend not to brag so much about their expeditions. At least not as much as mountain climbers do anyway. God, you know if someone’s a mountain climber the same way you know that someone’s a vegan. They’ll delight in telling you all about the mountains they’ve bagged and the feet they’ve surmounted and the sea-levels they’ve seen above all before you’ve even finished asking what they’ve been up to recently.

Shit! I think that was my exit. Do not try and look back for the signs if you’re on the bloody motorway. Remember what Bernie said – you drive like a child with attention span issues. I will not prove her right by crashing this car on the motorway! I’ll just double back at the next junction if I need to. I’m sure it’ll be fine.

OK.

OK.

OK.

Alright, I don’t know where I’m going and I don’t know where I am – other than somewhere on the M62. I know that I’m supposed to be on that road but I’m not entirely sure how long for or where to. I knew I should have had another look before I set off. The desire to escape and remove myself from that same old argument and the same old back and forth seemed to have fueled my false sense of preparedness. I must accept the fact that I am just not capable of conducting a classy walk out and I am not a move on with your life kind of person. I am more of a walk away and then have a panic attack for a few minutes, then compose yourself and remind yourself what you’re supposed to be doing and then take a few breaths and then work yourself up to getting on with it kind of person instead. And, lesson to be learned Al, if you continue to try and make yourself fit into the category of classy-walk-out person you will keep finding yourself lost on a motorway you’ve driven down most of your life because you’re so distracted trying to regulate yourself and be late (again) for your weekend away.

Why did I have to say those things to him?

Stop it.

Pay attention.

Look for a services sign. There must be one coming up soon. I think I’m still on our side of Leeds which means that Ferrybridge should be coming up soon. God – that means I’ve been driving less than an hour and nothing. Not even a text message to ask if I’m alright. What a prick.

No. Focus.

Yes. Ferrybridge is two miles up the way. I’ll stop there and look at Max’s message again and just remind myself of where it is that I’m going.

*

Goddammit! Why can’t I just get to where I’m going and then I can forget about what led me there and focus on being there instead! What the hell is this? Crambrook Range? A farm? A town? Oh god, I’m going to end up on the missing person’s report on the 6 o’clock news, aren’t I?!

Right – sod this. I need to get out of this bloody car and just have a bit of fresh air.

As I pull into the gravel laden car park, I swing the car into the parking space furthest away from any other human being – of which there were very few in this forgotten corner of whatever backroad I’ve managed to navigate myself onto. Instead of facing a dinner table full of delicious dishes and an array of beverages surrounded by the faces of my family, I am facing a grassy verge leading to a ridge where the evening sky is hanging in a depressed state that seems to signify its disappointment with my efforts be a functional human today.  

I give up. I’ll just rest my head on the steering wheel for a few moments. If I could just have a moment to think. Switch of the engine you lunatic – I can’t be dealing with a do-gooder, nice passer-by coming and asking if I’m alright. Breathe. Close your eyes. Count to three. Hold for three. I hear the kindly female voice on the box-breathing exercises speaking in my mind, the voice has instructed me to do the same, simple exercise countless times. My box-breathing is always accompanied by another small voice in my head pleading and begging for the barrage of queries, questions, analyses and ruminations to please, please just give me a break, a moment of reprieve whilst I try and get myself together and orientated. I just want to get where I’m going. Then, I can think about all the things that I need to think about. But, just please. One, two, three. Please. One, two, three. Please. One, two, three. Give me a minute. Two, three.

Nope?! Right. Walking it is.

I shove my shoulder into the driver’s side door at the same time my hand pulls on the handle opening the door, swinging me out in a semi-satisfying movement. That almost felt good. Yep, movement, that’s what I need right now. I take strikes up the grassy verge; stretching my legs just beyond their natural stride to desperately try and loosen some of the tension that has had its grip on most of the muscles in my body for God knows how many hours now. Just focus on your strides. I don’t know what is at the top of this ridge, and at this moment in time, I don’t really care. I just need to get away from that car for a short while and get away from what’s brought me here, to this moment. No. Don’t think about that right now. Just walk.

In a moment, the green has turned to grey. I’ve reached the top of the ridge. I can see nothing in front of me. Not in a dramatic sense or anything, but it turns out the ridge leads up to the edge of a quarry site so the only thing at the top of the grassy ridge is a boundary to an abyss. Staring down at the emptiness is somewhat comforting. It’s given me the expanse and space that my mind has been lacking for the last few hours and last few wrong turns. Now, I can breathe. I don’t think I can see the bottom. I know that the bottom is there. Of course it is. It’s a quarry. But, it’s too dark so I can’t see it. I move a small pebble with my right toe and shuffle it to the edge. Quickly, I kick it over the boundary of grass to abyss and wait to hear the sound of it reach the bottom that I cannot see.

…

…

…

There it is. A thud, not a plop. So, it’s a solid bottom. Not a water-filled bottom. The pebble was grey, like the sky, rather than white. Meaning what? That I don’t know what type of quarry this is. What a surprise. I don’t even know how I’ve ended up here. I don’t know how I’ve managed to be in this exact situation, again, so of course I’m not going to know what type of bloody quarry this is.

The cool air feels good against my cheek. It’s coolth wraps around my skin, causing goosebumps to form and finally a sensation is strong enough to pull myself out of my mind long enough to once again acknowledge other things. The wind moves through my hair and shakes it looser from my head. I roll my head in a circular motion willing my shoulders to relax a little.

I do know where I am heading. I am heading to the house to meet my family for our weekend away. I don’t know what is going to happen when I get home, but I don’t need to think about that right now. I just need to concentrate on the journey ahead of me right now. Focus on making the next turn a correct one and making sure that if there’s another wrong turn – which given the success of this journey the likelihood of another wrong turn is pretty much a given at this point – that I just go with it. Look at me right now – I am on top of a grassy ridge, in the middle of a part of the countryside I have never been to before and looking out onto a quarry that has been forgotten for so long. I take a deep breath, steal one more look into the deep abyss of the quarry, turn around and begin walking back down to the car, back down to my journey, back down to myself.