Late Saturday afternoon, we were just pulling into my road when a middle-aged woman at the intersection rolled down the window of her dark-blue BMW and asked us, very politely, if this road led to The Whip Tavern.
Not really, I said, but I can get you there.
Well, she wasn't quite sure: that might be where she wanted to go -- or perhaps the Landhope in Willowdale.
(My house is only a few minutes away from both of those fine establishments, but they are in completely opposite directions.)
I tried to pin her down: Where exactly did she want to go?
After several rounds of asking the same question and receiving vague answers, we managed to learn that some friends of hers had built a new house somewhere in Unionville -- did we know them? -- and she thought that by simply driving around the countryside she could find it. Apparently she didn't think to ask for the address, and the idea of phoning them didn't occur to her.
We finally gave her directions to downtown Unionville -- a straight shot -- but I'm not at all confident she made it there.