A Personal Story When I was in high school, my friends and I used to pile into the car on Friday nights and deliberately try to get lost. We would simply choose a freeway, drive until we didn’t recognize any of the street names, and then get off at a random exit. Then we’d either drive around some dark small town telling ghost stories or try to figure out why people were always moving their sofas in the middle of the night. (I swear we saw somebody moving furniture at least once a month) Eventually we’d stop at a well-lit greasy spoon for a midnight snack and ask around for…