Monday night, while driving home in some awesome Chicago rush-hour traffic I heard a hiss, hoping it was coming from the car next to me (I always like to assume/imply a quick spurt of air is coming from the guy next to me instead of myself). Alas, it was my right rear tire, which had had a nasty-looking air bubble for about two years and had impressively held on this long.
So I pulled over to the side of I-90, called triple A, then my mother, to tell her that I might be having the worst Monday/start of the work-week ever. Much to my surprise, after only about 15 minutes, a nice man from the Dept. of Transportation pulled up behind me, and told me to get back in my car while he took care of everything. Within a half hour of getting the flat tire, I was back on the road, on my way home, with the guy's card and explicit instructions to call him whenever something like this happens again.
My Monday didn't seem to be getting much better because when I got home I had a measly 2 pieces of mail in my mailbox. One, a catalog, and the other, a skinny little envelope from an architecture school on the east coast. Knowing what a small envelope means, I unlocked the door to my apartment and thought for the first time in months "I'm home." As in really home, where I'm going to stay for many years.
I love my condo, I love my city, and I love my friends. And they all love me back. Minutes later, I checked my email, which included an acceptance from IIT. In the next month, I'm going to be making a big decision about which school I will spend the next 3 years at. But happily, that decision will not include the stress of a possible move. Even though I probably won't have much time to blog while I'm at school, I have picked up a new blog address, Future Architect Wicky. Hopefully I'll have fun things to say over there too, though probably not all about architecture. As you can tell, my piano teaching blog is rarely about teaching!
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What? Dept of Transportation changed your tire for you? I have had terrible luck with tires (including having a blow out on the highway 6 hours after I got my drivers license). Nobody has ever stopped to help me, I've changed it myself every time! I'm so jealous.
ReplyDeleteI guess I'm just a lucky lady. I kind of figured it was Chicago's way of saying "stick with me and I'll take care of you." But seriously, they have some number to call that's like *999 or something and if you run out of gas or anything they'll come help you. I would probably not use it though, because I'd be afraid to be taking them away from some real emergency or something.
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