Nothing really exciting has been happening over break, and I've been sorta bummed. Admittedly, I didn't really expect much to happen here in Plainfield with my family that doesn't go out or invite people over. However, it seems that fun little adventures (or misadventures) always seem to find me no matter where I am.
I decided Friday that I would go to vespers at All Saints' this past evening. I called a friend for a ride, but she wasn't going, so I took myself and my black currant (deep purple) car, Elliot (it's a girl Elliot), all the way up to Chicago. With a moderate amount of traffic, it takes about an hour and fifteen minutes to drive to church from Plainfield. I was able to get there faster today which was a wonderful blessing.
Vespers was a glorious hour or so spent in God's presence and if another parishioner hadn't been chatting with Father Pat, I would have stuck around to pray alone in the sanctuary if he'd let me. But, on my way back up the stairs I ran into Olivia, a fabulous young woman from choir who has always been very nice to me and whom I rather like. She asked if we could go to dinner. Of course! So we had great food and very beautiful conversation. I love when you can just talk to someone very openly, like you were meant to be friends.
After two and a half hours of joyous fellowship with my sister in Christ, I began the long and tired journey home. Things went smoothly--I was able to cruise again (twice in one week!) and I cranked Viva la Vida and was snug as a bug in a rug. Finally, I made it to good ol' P-ville and got stuck behind a POLICE OFFICER going about fifteen miles under the speed limit...grrr.
Cop left, I continued to drive, and was three miles away from my home when the event occurred. Now, I was on Rt.126. I've been driving down this particular strip of 126 since I've had my liscence. So here I am, cruisin' along, when all of a sudden---BOOM!
I heard a noise like an explosion. Immediately I assessed all sensory information I was receiving from Elliot--noises, balance, changes in equilibrium, straining, etc. I was sure that with a noise like that and its accompanying jolt I couldn't possibly get away without a flat tire.
I was right.
Sure enough, about a block later as I was turning right, I noticed that I was having a difficult time with both steering and accelerating. Once I'd made the turn, I was positive. I had a flat tire. The right front end of my car was leaning down quite noticeably, and my poor steering wheel kept trying her darnedest to drift off to the side of the road. At this point I said a few inappropriate words and had a little fight with the evil pothole demons, while at the same time searching for an appropriate place to pull over. By the way, after I had turned on my hazards and began pulling into a parking lot, the truck behind me finally decided to flash his brights. "Hey, little car! You've got a flat! Thought I'd let you know!" Elliot replied, "Thanks a lot, genius. Ya think I hadn't already figured that out?!"
Called Dad. Assessed damage. Attempted tire change--spare was flat. Went home.
My poor car is still in that parking lot, looking all sad and lonely next to TWO--count 'em, TWO--other cars with flat right front tires. Hmmm...
Also, I must say that I was driving home from the Christmas Eve service at All Saints' just this Wednesday and there was no pothole. Now, there is a gigantically deep pothole capable of serious damage, a pothole that also happens to be invisible in the dark. Oh, well. At least figuring out how we're going to fix it will keep Dad and I occupied for a day.
And the moral of the story is: don't drive down familiar streets at night because there might be a brand-spankin'-new pothole waiting for you, complete with evil pothole demons.