I had to take a different route than usual home from work the other day. I had an event to attend in downtown Baltimore so it just made sense at the time.

Luckily, I left before the real bad part of the afternoon rush hour started so I figured I could potentially cruise home with no problem. Once again, I don’t know why I trust my instincts.

I hadn’t even merged from I-95 to the Baltimore Beltway when I saw the first sign of trouble. Cars were already backed up after I passed the point of no return for that exit. I quickly turned on the radio to try and suss out the trouble.

An accident ahead had limited traffic to one lane. I listened to the location of the problem and made a quick decision. I had to pretend I was 13 years old again.

You see, all this trouble happened just a little bit away from Catonsville, my hometown. When I realized that the trouble would force me to crawl at a snail’s pace on a sunny Tuesday afternoon, I quickly decided on an alternative.

A friend in Hanover talks about navigating the streets there like a mouse looking for the cheese in an attempt to avoid the traffic lights on the main roads. I needed to now navigate the maze of Catonsville to try and cut down on my delay or, at the very least, make the drive more interesting.

This required me to revert to my teenage self because I traversed the side streets of my hometown on a bike all the time back then. I would start pedaling in the morning, either visiting friends or spending the day the pool where we belonged, and come home in time for dinner.

Back then, our parents actually encouraged us to go play away from the house without any way of staying in touch. I understand concerns that parents have these days about safety, but I learned and experienced so much back then as my buddy Dave and I set off in the search of pizza, Big Gulps and good records.

That’s how I knew I needed to cut from Newburg to Frederick to Wyndcrest to Summit (which bordered on the street where Dave lived) to Beechwood to Edmonson which led me to Old Frederick (down near my neighborhood) to Route 40 where I could get back on the Beltway past most of the backup.

In some way, this might seem fairly inconsequential, but I reveled in how quickly I remembered my way around the town I have not lived in for almost 20 years. The names of the streets may not have come to me naturally, but I figured everything out almost right away.

I have reconnected with a lot of friends via Facebook so this kind of nostalgia kind of fits in what’s been going on in my life lately. Most of the time I spend back there involves family activities so I don’t get a chance to just explore like the old days as much as I would like.

I only wish I had a chance to stop at some of my old haunts along the way. I’ll have to find time for that on another trip.