I'm directionally challenged. I know the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, and if I'm facing the sunset with a military clock in tow, I might be able to tell you which way is north and perhaps even guide you to the south.

Lori Clinch is the mother of four sons and the author of the book "Are We There Yet?" You can reach her at www.loriclinch. com. Perhaps.

Given my directional limitations, I feel that it's best that I never navigate. In fact, my beloved spouse and I made this a rule during our infamous Colorado vacation of 2002.

We had our health, we had our kids and we'd been having such a good time in the mountains that we'd decided to leave the peace and serenity of the back woods and head to the heart of the city for a little adventure. What it lacked in tranquility we were sure to make up for in anxiety.

As we cruised the freeway, all was well until my beloved spouse, Pat, said to me, "Lori, get out the map."

"What part of the map should I look at?" I asked as I began to unfold it.

"Try the large blown-up part that says Denver," he replied.

I was hoping for one of those cute little arrows that say, "You are here." But Lady Luck was not on my side, and I was left to find our location all by my onesy.

"Turn left and get on I-25," I instructed.

"Lori, we are on I-25."

"Alrighty then, tell me this: does it go left anywhere?"

It wasn't until we hit the western border of Kansas that we realized that I'd been looking at the map upside down. The location of Wyoming should have been an indication that something was askew, but who would have thought to look at that?

Since that day, my handsome and loving husband has been the navigator and I'm forced to be the captain at the helm.

Pat takes his job quite seriously. Days before we embark on any trip, he digs out his maps, does his research, compiles his information and then plants himself in the passenger seat armed with an atlas, a magnifying glass and a look of intensity.

Our kids have dubbed him Map Man.

"Where do you want me to go from here?" I asked him on a recent round of days off. Shall I take 80, 76 or a ride on the Reading?" I was belted into the driver's seat with a stout cup of coffee and sporting a rosary as my only accessory.

As I cruised at warped speed through heavy traffic awaiting Map Man's words of wisdom, the children looked on and prayed.

"Oh," my husband responded with great reflection, "I don't know."

"Well, you must know something; you've been looking at that stinking diagram for the past two hours. Do you want me to take this interchange or not?"

"Well, I suppose you could try it."

With the freeway system wrapped around me and six lanes of bumper-tobumper traffic zooming up my kazoo, that was not the response that I'd been craving.

"What do you mean, 'I could try it?' " I said as I maneuvered around a truck, pulled in front of a minivan and cut a Porsche off at the knees. "We're not choosing a flavor of ice cream here!"

"Well, I don't know, what else have you got?"

"I've got an 80, a 76 and something that appears to be a link to the 25."

"Boy," he said as he pulled his glasses down to the bridge of his nose and pulled the map in for a closer look, "that's a lot of choices."

I was about to take my chances on the 80, look for the 76 and then hope against all hope that one of the interchanges took a strong turn for the east and landed us at our destination, when suddenly and without warning a car pulled up alongside us and honked.

"My, but aren't they nice here on the freeways?" one of the kids said sarcastically.

"I think he wants you to roll down your window," my husband responded.

"Do you think he wants to say hello to us?" I asked

"Mom," said the eldest and all-knowing child, "you've been maneuvering through traffic like you're on a ski rope. It's more than likely he wants to shoot us."

As we cruised at warp speed, I rolled down my window. "Pardon me," the man in the passenger seat of the car called out. "Can you tell me which way is south?"

"Can you help him?" I asked Map Man.

"Does he want south 15 or south 87?"

Ignoring Map Man's inquiry I called back, "Can you wait until the sun sets?"

"I don't think so."

"Well then," I hollered out as I sped away, "you're out of luck."