One cold, snowy Minnesota night, I got lost on the way home. The snow was blowing so fast and piling up so high, I couldn't see any street signs. With no map in my car and a dead cell phone, I thought I might be stranded so I pulled over to the side of the road.
Then breaking through the flurries, I saw the headlights of a plow truck in my rearview mirror. Thanking my lucky stars, I turned in and followed the truck, hopeful that it would lead me back somewhere I recognized.
I followed that truck for what felt like hours. He turned left, I'd turn left. He'd swing to the right, and I was right on his tail. After a while, I saw brake lights from the plow, followed by four-way flashers. The plow had stopped, and I saw the driver get out and approach my car. I rolled down the window to talk to him.
"Why are you following me, kid?" the plow driver asked.
"Well sir, my dad told me if I was ever lost in a snowstorm, I should wait for a plow truck and then follow it."
"Well," said the plow driver. "I just finished clearing the Walmart parking lot. Want to follow me over to Best Buy??"