Last weekend I spent Saturday waiting for Tony to show up with the tow truck. Long story. Short version - I had a car in the city and was driving to the country for the night to enjoy the pool. Lucky me...I felt so free driving down 3rd avenue ready to escape the garbage scented pavement. There was traffic. Everywhere. I was happy in my 62 degree car with Michael Buble joining me. And then there was smoke.
I pulled over and called 911. Smoke and gasoline make me nervous. I know, I know. I probably didn't need the fire trucks to come inspect but better safe than sorry. I sheepishly smiled as they told me to call for a tow truck - they kindly said no problem when I said sorry for the false alarm. The car overheated and I was at the mercy of AAA, Tony, to come rescue me. So two hours later in the mid-day sun with the hood open in the middle of 114th street traffic, I had to laugh. There go the plans for my Saturday. I finally got home to the lush countryside, to my mother's breathtaking garden. Jumping in the pool to the vision of my surroundings, the car trouble seemed like no trouble at all. I was free.


