When Florida started becoming a state that attracted retirees, and the population grew, and streets became multiple lane highways, someone should have thought about installing larger typeface street signs and posting earlier signage informing drivers of which intersection they are approaching so they can make their way into the correct lanes for their appropriate directional continuation.

As couples age, it is often the man who gets disabled first, and he was often the main driver for the couple. Thus, many reluctant women wind up driving their husbands to myriad appointments.

Most men hate losing their independence, and they are often irritated and vocal about their dissatisfaction with the situation. I am introspective and not aggressive. Rapid lane changes are not recommended for my tortoise-like brain.

Recently, I had to drive to 2565 South State Road 7 in Wellington. That was the address given to me. There was a fairly prominent sign on Lake Worth Road citing U.S. 441 intersection. At the last minute I managed to see a smaller "7" on the sign, and made my right turn with some rapid jockeying.

My directions then told me I should turn left onto Nu Vista Avenue, so I slowed at each intersection until I could read the sign, and then sped on. However, I never found a sign for Nu Vista. Realizing I was passing the Mall at Wellington Green, I made a left, and another left onto the ring road, and ultimately brought us within sight of the place I was trying to find. Of course, just as I spied it, I passed the entrance to the sub-hopping area where it is located.

I come from Tulsa, Oklahoma, where the streets are organized alphabetically from the center of the city while cross streets are in numerical order running from the center. Even so, Tulsa’s street signs are large type and plentiful. If there’s an organizing principle for Florida roadways, I haven’t grasped it yet, and I rely on signs, too often reading them when it is too late to maneuver.

I grew up a long time ago before interstates occurred and when Route 66 was the way to cross the continent. But Florida is where I’ll die. Hopefully, not while driving.