A city slicker, driving his fancy sports car, gets lost on a country road. He pulls up to a farmer who is fixing a fence.
“Excuse me, sir,” the city slicker says, leaning out of his car window, “can you tell me the quickest way to the nearest city?”
The farmer slowly straightens up, wipes his brow with a calloused hand, and looks at the city slicker with a thoughtful expression. “Well, son,” he drawls, “that depends. Are you walking or driving?”
The city slicker scoffs. “Driving, of course! I’m in a hurry!”
The farmer nods. “Alright then. If you’re driving, that’s the quickest way.”
The city slicker stares at him, confused. “What do you mean, ‘that’s the quickest way’?”
The farmer points down the road. “Well, if you’re walking, it’d take you all day. But if you’re driving, you’ll be there in about an hour.”
The city slicker throws his hands up in exasperation. “No, no, you don’t understand! I need directions! Which way do I go?”
The farmer scratches his chin. “Ah, directions. Right. Well, you go straight down this road for about five miles. Then you’ll see a big red barn. You can’t miss it.”
The city slicker brightens. “Okay, a big red barn, got it! And then?”
“Then,” the farmer continues, “you turn left at the barn. Go another two miles, and you’ll come to a fork in the road.”
“A fork in the road!” the city slicker repeats, pulling out his phone to take notes. “And then?”
The farmer pauses, then says, “Well, at the fork, you take the right path. Go another mile, and you’ll see an old oak tree.”
“An old oak tree!” the city slicker is practically bouncing with excitement. “And after the tree?”
The farmer shrugs. “After the tree, you’re still lost.”