My husband finally got his dream vehicle—a Ram truck. He loves it. I, however, see it as a tank on wheels. It’s huge. Massive. A behemoth of a machine. But, of course, I had to learn how to drive it.

I was terrified.

The hardest part? Staying in my lane. No matter how hard I tried, I kept drifting over…
HONK! Stay in your lane, Peni!

Turns out, this wasn’t just a problem on regular roads.

The first time my husband drove his gigantic truck on the beach, it started off as pure joy—watching the waves, feeling the salty breeze, waving at beachgoers like we were royalty cruising in a parade.

All good.

Until we left our lane.

Yes, there is a lane (or rather, deep ruts) you’re supposed to follow on the beach. And if you veer off? You run the risk of getting stuck in the sand.

Guess what we did?

Yep. Stuck.

While my husband calmly assessed the situation, I went into full Peni Panic Mode and started calling everyone in my contacts.

“The tide is coming in! Our truck is going to be washed out to sea! We need HELP!”

Meanwhile, my husband quietly deflated the tires, got the truck moving again, and saved the day. And just as I was breathing a sigh of relief, I saw a crew of our friends and family sprinting down the beach, carrying shovels, ready to dig us out of what was apparently… not a catastrophe.

I had some explaining to do.

And it got me thinking… how many other times have I not ‘stayed in my lane’?

I love helping people. But they don’t always want—or need—my help.

Like the time a friend told me she was feeling down. My immediate response? A full-fledged action plan.
“You should try exercise! And cut back on sugar! Have you considered therapy? I have some book recommendations!”

She didn’t need a to-do list. She just needed me to listen.
Stay in your lane, Peni.

Or the time I spotted a shorter woman struggling to grab a can off the top shelf at the grocery store. Now, I’m not much taller than her, but still, I said, “Oh, I’ll get that for you!”

Mistake.

As I climbed the shelf like a mountain goat, I knocked over everything. Cans and jars crashed to the floor. The woman disappeared as quickly as possible. And then came the dreaded announcement:
“Clean up on Aisle 3!”

Stay in your lane, Peni. Sometimes, jumping in when you think you’re helping just creates a bigger mess.

But just when I was starting to think I should always stay in my lane, I was reminded that sometimes… you shouldn’t.

Stepping out of your lane can be exactly what you need to do. Like the time I took up boxing at 60. I had no business walking into that gym—I was way out of my lane. But instead of crashing and burning (or, you know, getting knocked out), I found something I loved. And it made me stronger, both physically and mentally.

And then there’s springtime on our dirt road.

I love living on a dirt road—except in the spring. It’s a disaster. Deep, muddy ruts that swallow up tires and don’t let go. On roads like that, the key isn’t staying in your lane. It’s getting out of it. Hug the edges, find solid ground, and avoid the deep muck at all costs.

Maybe the lesson isn’t just about staying in your lane—it’s about knowing when to leave it.

Life is full of moments when you need to stay in your lane… and just as many when you don’t. The trick is figuring out which is which—preferably before you need rescuing.

-Peni