Everyone makes mistakes. Smart people learn from them. For some, it takes more than one wrong turn for the lesson’s full impact.

Some of these experiences are downright blunders. Dumb mistakes you’ll later view as, “What was I thinking?” moments. For instance, a few weeks ago, I noticed something inside my purse made it smell like a still! When I dumped the bag, I found the fermenting banana peel, partially wrapped in a now wet and reeking napkin. It was a meal-on-the-run that I fully intended to transfer to a waste can once I went inside wherever I was headed. Everything in that purse emitted an alcoholic scent and had to be wiped down.

My latest blunder led to a crazy wild ride, taking an unexpected scenic route through the Cattaraugus County, N.Y. countryside.

My cousin and I needed to get to the county courthouse in Little Valley. Neither of us had ever been there. Neither of us are very tech savvy. Darlene usually has her son set up her phone’s driving direction GPS instructions if she has to go someplace unfamiliar.

I don’t use mine often, but each May when I head to Michigan, I set the phone in case I get routed off somewhere like Cleveland. I was forced off once in the past, later to discover they were making a “Capt. America” film on the expressway near the stadium. I got hopelessly lost downtown and resolved to never have that feeling again.

On Monday, the directions seamlessly routed us to the courthouse parking lot. No problem. We were even early. For our return, I hit my home address of Temple Street, which then launched a ride Darlene and I will never forget.

Instead of familiar return turns out of the village, the Siri voice took us out into the country. We thought it was just a faster or different way to Interstate 86. Dar and I had spent a lot of time together as children, but only recently reconnected. We had a lot to talk about, so spent this time catching up.

At one point, after a few more country turns on roads that did not post route numbers, we found ourselves climbing up and down rollercoaster hills surrounded by thick forest and very few residences. We joked that the few people who lived out there better not forget milk or eggs. Even the proliferating Dollar General stores would necessitate a long trip.

The scenery was pretty. The roads were good. But something was off. I began to hear the banjo licks of the movie “Deliverance” in my head … we soon realized we were definitely not heading toward I-86.

“This can’t be right,” we both speculated. “Where the heck are we?”

The phone voice said a turn was coming up in something like 8 miles. Darlene counted them down, glancing at the screen. When it finally appeared, I turned and pulled off next to a field of tall corn to check a suspicion that had been gnawing my mind.

Sure enough. We were on a wild goose chase, hopelessly off track, because of a blunder I had made. I entered my Temple Street address all right. But the driving guide was leading us to Temple Street in FREDONIA, not Portville!

AAAccch!!!

When I reset the dang thing, correctly this time, new instructions found us partially returning the way we came, but not over the rollercoaster hill. We traveled other seemingly long country roads, seeing only one child rider on an off-road vehicle, followed by a pickup of adults and, at one point, two wild turkeys. Until we met the construction workers paving some long stretches of countryside road, which further held us up.

Finally, we were back in Salamanca and knew our way from Route 417— but in town, the street was under construction, too, requiring a small detour. The turn came up so fast, I rocked us both, swinging into it so fast we both were startled.

At one point, Dar told me her son just hits “return” to navigate the way back from a trip. We both resolved to have someone show us how to access that option for the future.

As mentioned earlier, it can take some people longer to learn stuff. I had made a similar mistake once before, forgetting to double check the destination town, which is what brought the notion to my mind. That time, I caught it early.

Finally home, I saw the menu actually shows Temple Street options with different towns and cities for you to click one. I must have looked quickly, seeing only the street and not “Fredonia” when I clicked on it.

The end game result was a blunder that made a 49-minute return trip take well over two hours. We missed the lunch I had planned to stop for. I suspect Dar will think twice before riding with me again. And I can see the need to better familiarize myself with the available technology.

Oh, well, I guess it’s like most things. Live and learn!

(Contact contributor Deb Wuethrich at deborahmarcein@gmail.com.)