I have never been lost. Misplaced maybe, but never lost. The term "lost" indicates defeat, a final judgement from which there is no return. I prefer to look at being off track as nothing but a temporary setback, thus my usage of "misplaced" instead. I usually have a handle on the general location. The State, the county, and the direction. That is not lost. That is just off course. My wonderful wife, God love her, has a harsher view of being misplaced and my tendency to not worry about it.
I have never been afraid to change directions. This drives her crazy. But 24 years of marriage has made her more tolerant of my fast and loose usage of America's great highways. Because in the end, I always get us there. I just look at the little detours as part of the adventure of travel. Stopping in some backwater burg and asking some toothless local where the interstate is can be interesting and add some needed comic relief to an otherwise dreary and boring road trip. Ending up on a dirt road that becomes a goat trail deep in the outback is no cause for alarm. Just turn around and retrace. Or in lieu of that, back up until you can.
My wife will mutter, "Oh great, now we're lost. Whatja gonna do now big boy?". By the time she says this, we both know that meeting her rigid schedule is not going to happen. I resign myself to sucking up abuse in the form of haughty silence and responses that take the form of grunts. That's okay. By that time, I've pretty much run out of anything cheerful to say anyway. But I always get us there. So I am never lost, just temporarily misplaced.