I was telling someone a story about the time I lost track of where I parked in Portland (Maine ) one day. They laughed and asked how could I navigate at sea if I couldn’t get around town without getting lost.
My son was there and he had made a short transit with me one time. My son says “There’s a compass in the wheelhouse and it’s about this big” (holds his hands about a foot apart). “He (meaning me) always stands next to it.”
From the paper - the compass rose is where the action is.
