Orange barrels squeeze Kingshighway to one lane, the UPS truck in front of me blocking my view. I drive right past my turn.

“Recalculating,” the GPS says.

A new blue line appears.

My passenger checks the clock. Her medical appointment starts in twelve minutes. I feel the urge to explain, to excuse, to pretend I meant to miss the turn.

Instead, I say it out loud.

“I missed the turn. You’re still going to make it.”

She nods.

The new route adds three blocks.

We arrive with three minutes to spare.

Everyone misses turns. Leaders name them, find the next road, and keep moving forward.