I’m almost embarrassed to admit this, but I was fooled by a local road sign.

It happened last Friday. I made a quick pit stop on Candia Road, then needed to make my way to the north end of Hooksett Road, above Interstate 93.

Just follow the signs, I thought. What a fool I was.

I’ve noticed that getting around in New England is a lot like finding a speakeasy during Al Capone’s time. If you know where you’re going, then you’re golden. If you’re unsure, there’s no one you can ask.

So I went for it. Well, the sign says 93 north is this way, so why would that possibly lead me astray?

I took a left, then went straight through to the on-ramp for Route 101.

Another sign popped up, showing “93 north” was the direction I was going.

As soon I was getting onto Route 101, I realized the error of my ways. “What am I, new?” I said. I was alone in the car, and felt a little silly talking to myself. I understood where I was going now, the signs were taking me to Exit 1 on 101. To get to I93 north, I had to go east, then turn around.

Exit off Route 101, then turn around and head back. Makes perfect sense. I thought for sure I was the only one dumb enough to fall for the old switcheroo. Nope. A line of about 30 cars spilled out onto Route 101, clogging the Friday afternoon traffic. I spent 30 minutes of my Friday in line there, wondering what I had been thinking. These would be the “light cycle delays” the traffic reporters affectionately like to reference.

I lit a cigar and pondered my errors. There were many. I could have come around the back way on Candia Road, through the traffic circle and laughed as I waved at the glut of cars coming off 101 on Exit 1, where I was now sitting, staring at a dead patch of grass near the off-ramp. I could have simply cut across Mammoth Road and backed into Hooksett. Or I could have grabbed a biggie or a coffee and waited out my time at Wendy’s or Dunkin’ Donuts. All would have been better options.

Am I really the same person who gave directions to someone the first week I was in town?

Some day, maybe even in the near future, there will be an on-ramp to get to 93 north directly from Candia Road. Crazy? It isn’t as silly as it seems. It wasn’t long ago that we never dreamed of turning north onto Interstate 293 from Granite Street. Already, we are taking it for granted.

I watched a video on YouTube recently, a collection of old pictures from the city. Some of them were from the early 1900s; most were taken between 1950 and 1970. I paused the video several times, trying to place myself in those spaces. A drive-in on South Willow Street. The buildings in place before the Verizon. Even seeing an old-style Notre Dame Bridge was almost shocking.

At some point, the roads will all change, the scenery will differ, and we may even feel like strangers in our own city. With the current stimulus money being thrown around, I suppose it could happen, though the plans to widen I93 seem to stop at Exit 5, or the unnamed split at 101/293 on the city’s southeastern tip.

Candia Road, north onto 93. Could it happen? If it does, let’s just hope they decide to name the interchange. “McCune Drive” has a certain ring to it. That way, we can all remember what an idiot I was to blindly follow the traffic signs.

Adam McCune is the author of “Funny Man Down.” McCune’s Manchester appears Thursdays in the New Hampshire Union Leader. You can email Adam at amccune@gmail.com.