A Born Sense of Direction

Anyone who has ever driven with me, or who's house I've driven to, knows that I do not have the best sense of direction in the world. The incident of Karaoke World comes to mind. And then there are the countless times I have driven through Ranchlands or Edgemont, or even, my own Tuscany, and gotten hopelessly lost. Those silly communities with their streets all sounding the same, and the identical houses so you never have any idea where you are.
In the past few months, I have gotten better at finding my way to certain people's houses. One friend in particular, who lives in Edgemont, has been especially difficult to find. Whenever I go to his house, I take some kinda wrong turn and end up hopelessly lost. Last week, I drove to Trever's house and to my astonishment, did not get lost once. I was so excited I ran into his house to announce my accomplishment. I was quite proud of myself. Then, this weekend, I drove to Trever's again, and sadly, it appears that last week was an abnormal event.
My excuse is that this week I was driving from a completely different direction. I'd picked up another friend in Ranchlands, and therefore had to take a different route. Now, when going to friends houses, I generally don't know street names. I just know that I take the road by Churchill and then turn at the 7 Eleven and then go down the hill and turn at the familiar looking road, and then Trever's street is the one with the playground and mailboxes at the entrance. Not the best directions, I know, but when coming from my own house, I can find it; piece of cake. Coming from Ranchlands, it's an entirely different matter.
Perhaps it wouldn't of been quite so bad if I had taken John Laurie; I can find my usual route from John Laurie. But it just so happens that the turn off to John Laurie comes up much sooner when you're coming from Ranchlands, and I didn't even realize I'd missed it until I was Country Hills (a good ways away). At any rate, we ended up going down Country Hills, and, in a moment of sheer idiocy, I took the closest turn off that said Edgemont.
This is when it would be really handy if I knew street names.
We drove up and down many streets, looking for something we recognized, or maybe the 7 Eleven. We were hopelessly lost, we couldn't even find the way we'd come. Stupid Edgemont.
Then, something miraculous happened. In desperation to find our way, I turned onto another random street. A street with a playground and mailboxes at the entrance. I gasped, scarcely believing my luck. I drove down the street, looking for Trever's house number. When I saw the correct number, I could scarcely believe it, I didn't believe it. This was simply too good to be true. So I called Trever and asked him to come stand on his driveway to prove myself right. It was the correct house!
What can I say? I must have a born sense of direction.