My friend Peggy and I met close to 25 years ago, when our daughters, both named Sara, were barely seven years old.

One of the very first things we did together was take the girls to a movie. As we pulled up to the first intersection, I turned my left blinker on. Peggy asked me if I knew where the theater was.

"Of course," I said confidently.

"Then why are you turning left?" she said. "The theater is the other way."

If we'd gone the direction I wanted to take, we would still have arrived at the movie theater, but it would have taken at least 15 minutes longer and we'd have driven maybe six or seven miles farther.

It wasn't the last time she'd be called upon to rescue me from my inability to figure out more than one way to get from Point A to Point B.

Now, to be fair, Peggy had spent nearly her all of her life living in Rock Island, apart from a few years in southern Illinois. She knew shortcuts to get around town even the Police Department doesn't know. Wherever we went, I could count on her to tell me how to get there.

We went lots of places in the years we were neighbors. Apple-picking in the fall, strawberries in early summer, shopping, dining out, concerts - even out of town, Peggy was the navigator and she always got us to our destination with nary a wrong turn.

She visited Marshall for a few days last summer, but her visit was short and we spent most of the time rearranging furniture (something we've done many, many times) and staying close to home. We went to Columbia, but I already knew how to get there and back without getting lost.

Well, at least I knew how to get to Columbia Mall without getting lost.

But, of course, I've missed her since then.

So when she called to say she was coming for a visit this fall, I was delighted. I'm getting much better at navigating on my own, especially since I started working for the newspaper and often have to find a place I've never been. I thought I'd spend some time showing Peggy my new-found directional skills.

On Saturday afternoon, we hopped in the car and headed for the Springwater greenhouse. As we pulled out of the driveway, she asked me if I knew where it was.

"Of course," I said confidently.

What is it they say about history repeating itself?

I completely forgot that Highway 65 north of town was closed at Clyde's Corner. It was not until the car in front of us slowed down to a crawl and then pulled over that I remembered.

"We'll just turn around and take the first road east and then find a road that goes north and we'll be there in 10 minutes," I said.

You can assume that Peggy knows Rock Island a lot better than I know Saline County. For the next two hours, we wandered up and down what was surely at least 500 miles of the 750 miles of roads in the county. After the first hour of fruitless twists and turns, I remembered the county map in the back seat, so we pulled over to take a look at it.

It would have been much easier to read the map if we'd had 1) any idea where we were at that moment and 2) better eyesight.

We did take a lovely drive through Van Meter State Park. I'd like to say we did that purposefully, but we stumbled on it completely by mistake. Since we could see it on the map, though, at least it it gave us some idea of where we were. And it did give me a great opportunity to take some nice pictures.

As we approached the end of the second hour, we passed by a very nice house with a beautiful garden. Peggy started to laugh and said, "You know, that house is just as beautiful now as it was the last two times we passed it."

Of course, she was right.

At just the point where we were about to give up and head back to Marshall (assuming we would eventually stumble onto it by mistake), we managed to find what I recognized was the road to the greenhouse. Lucky for us, they hadn't closed yet and we were able to do what I'd planned all along - wander among the flowers and plants and take some of them home.

Before we left, we got excellent directions back to the main road and we were at home in Marshall in no time at all. Lucky for me, Peggy is as good at remembering directions as she is at knowing the way in the first place.

Now, you might be thinking this was a stressful afternoon. But it wasn't, not at all. We spent a lot of time laughing, one of the hallmarks of our friendship. Peggy and I have been through a lot together - birth, death, divorce, job stress, disappointments and triumphs --the best and the worst and still we laugh when we're together. Even while we roamed the country back roads, we talked and laughed and laughed and talked some more and caught each other up on what's going on in our lives now, when we live 300 miles apart.

We could have done that over a cup of coffee, but getting lost together on a warm fall afternoon turned out to be much more fun.

One of the keys to keeping friends is keeping them close. We are not always lucky enough to keep them close geographically. We try to keep them close to us in other ways, of course, by phone, e-mail, snail mail, the occasional greeting card. But there is nothing like a visit from an old friend to make us realize how lucky we are to have people in our lives we can always count on for a good laugh, a warm hug and directions.

Peggy will be back one of these days, I know. Next time, I hope to have a bigger map and a better sense of direction. But even if I don't, I know we'll have a wonderful time.