Summers before I could drive, I’d often accompany my dad when he’d run errands for the hotel he managed. Invariably we’d get lost and invariably it would lead to an unexpected adventure or discovery.

Keep in mind, this was before GPS or map apps on smartphones. We’d set off to a neighboring town with hand-scribbled directions, sometimes a worn map, and the utmost confidence that we were on the right track.

I remember one time we were on a mission to find some kind of part for some kind of machine. Probably an ill-tempered ice maker. We ended up in the next town over in an unfamiliar neighborhood. After passing the same intersection the third time, Dad pulled over to the curb. He put the car in park and reached above his head to manipulate an invisible, imaginary antenna. “I don’t think my radar is working,” he said.

“I don’t think my radar is working,” became a standing joke between us whenever we found ourselves lost when he was driving, or years later when I was driving him. Here’s the thing I remember most about getting lost with Dad: It never made him anxious or angry. He greeted these experiences with joy and humor, and for good reason, too. Often, our misdirection led to a discovery, a roadside ice cream shop, or a tasty lunch at a previously unknown local diner.

Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves. - Henry David Thoreau

When I get lost, may I experience it with joy and good humor, just like Dad, and see it as an opportunity to discover something new about myself and the world around me.

What discoveries have you made by getting lost? Share your adventures in the comments and happy travels!

A version of this article was published as a post in the Mind Tools LinkedIn Group.

Addendum: Two more stories about directions and my dad:

• When arranging a place to rendezvous, Dad would often start by saying, “I’ll meet you at the corner of ‘walk’ and ‘don’t walk.’

• Dad once gave me a baseball cap that had two bills jutting out in opposite directions. The words on the cap read, “I’m the leader. Follow me.” Somewhere along my life’s journey, I lost that funny hat. I’d love to still have it and I’d cherish an opportunity to get lost again with my dad.