It never fails.

Put me behind the wheel and I will get lost.

I get lost going home from work. OK, that’s an embellishment. However, I did get lost recently driving back from Denver, a drive I’ve made countless times. One moment I’m heading back to Colorado Springs, and the next I’m headed toward Limon. How is that possible? A valid question. I’ll spare you the ridiculous details. I’d like to tell you I’ll never make that mistake again, but the universe loves a challenge.

Even more recently, I found myself utterly flummoxed in Manitou Springs. On a visit to Miramont Castle, I was certain I knew where its parking lot was. I was wrong. I swear to you, they moved the parking since my last visit almost a year ago. I circled the castle and would have gone for a second go around if I hadn’t stopped to ask for directions.

The situation worsened when I left the parking lot and got hopelessly lost on the curvy streets behind the castle. Round and round I went, feeling like I was trapped in an episode of “The Twilight Zone,” where the roads somehow morphed and rerouted as soon as I drove them, which is a great idea for an episode, if it hasn’t already been done. Finally, I came upon a mail person and asked her how to escape — my heroine.

I’ve been lost in Maine, Oregon, Massachusetts and the Springs. You name it, and I’ve been lost there, despite GPS. Thank goodness for the mountains. How do people who don’t have Pikes Peak in their backyard find their way anywhere?

Pre-GPS, I called people from states away for help, asking them to look at maps, and seeking comfort as I drove the dark, isolated highways and byways of foreign lands, always missing my exit or taking the wrong one and driving for miles until I could turn around and try again.

And it’s not limited to the car. When I travel to a new city, the first thing I do is go for a walk. But the walk must only be straight, no left or right turns. Otherwise, I’ll never find my way back.

Existentially speaking, I’ve been lost in many more states and countries: California, New Mexico, Arizona, Mexico.

Meaning, I can’t help but think my penchant for getting lost is a metaphor. I don’t know if you’re a better planner or knower of what you want than me, but my sense of direction in life has always had perpetually burned-out turn signals, the kind where people roll down their windows and call it to your attention while you sit at a light.

I’ve never known quite what I want, where I want to go, or how to get there. I mostly try to locate a wayfinder, like Pikes Peak, to guide me. This looks like following a nudge or something I’m curious about, or something I seem to have a natural aptitude for, and following it as far as I can until it dissipates, loses its shine, or starts to bore or hurt me.

On good days, I’m of the mindset that the time, tears and frustration I’ve endured while getting lost have provided solid training for how to steer and course correct my actual life. On the other days, I kneel and offer praise at the altar of GPS and bless those who happily oblige when I ask for directions.

Getting lost to dos:

• Stop and ask for directions. Put aside your ego and pride for a moment, stop the car, and ask for help. There’s no shame in asking for directions or advice. I find people are more than happy to offer their two bits of wisdom, and what are we all if not gurus for each other? We all know a little something that somebody else might not. Let’s share the wealth of our hard-won knowledge.

• Pay attention. Listen to the strangers who tell you your taillight is out as much as the people in your life who tell you your strengths. Be on the lookout for warning signs: One Way or Stop, Do Not Enter. Don’t go down a road that doesn’t invite you. But even if you do, hopefully others will give you grace and allow you to redirect.

• Give yourself extra time. A nice 15-minute cushion can ease the stress of finding a new location. Leave way before you think you need to. Smell the lilacs along the way. Don’t rush anything. All timing is right timing, I read once, which felt like a hug to this late bloomer.

• Bring dopamine hits, as well as necessities on your journey. Dopamine: a bunch of grapes, hot Americano, hard-boiled eggs, good podcast, engaging book, pack of gum, block of the darkest chocolate, good friends. Necessities: extra water, warm clothing, umbrella, spare tire, cellphone charger and a solid emergency contact. The first list will lift your spirits when you’re spinning in circles on back roads, slowly losing your sanity. The second will help you feel safe no matter your degree of lostness.

• Feel your feelings. Don’t be afraid to cry or get angry or frustrated. Resist calling yourself names. You’re doing the best you can with the information and amount of Wi-Fi you have.

Getting lost not to dos:

• Don’t speed. I’ve surely done this — speed up in an attempt to get unlost as quickly as possible. This, of course, can make you even more lost. So slow your runaway car, or life; don’t rush to make a choice. Take a moment to pull off the road, pull out a map or Google Maps, or have a good, long talk with a trusted friend, before you slowly pull back onto the highway of life and recalibrate.

• Don’t ignore the signs. Stop. Go. No turn on red. School zone. Here’s an interesting challenge I just made up for you: Go forth into the world and notice the first actual, physical sign you see, whether walking or driving. Notice if it applies to a question you’re holding in your heart.

• Don’t flip people off. Or at least where they can see it. I’ve never been a middle finger flipper off-er, but a few years ago, I started doing it out of nowhere, always underneath the windshield or driver’s side window. It’s been cathartic. I know, this isn’t very love and light, but neither is the driver who decides I’m going too slowly (the speed limit, always), screeches around me, then cuts me off. And yes, I apply the benefit of the doubt — perhaps they’re on their way to the hospital, where their wife is about to give birth. And yet, my middle finger, seemingly with a life of its own, pops up, and for some unknowable reason, this makes me feel a little less irritated. But I shan’t ever do this in plain sight, as I don’t want you to read about me as a victim of road rage in these very pages.