We managed to survive White Knuckle Zone (Chicago) today. It is a place of mystery to me, where driving is serious business – hence our nickname pin-pointing a death-grip on the steering wheel. Being a country girl, I’m always challenged by its wall-to-wall concrete, angular skyscrapers, perilous driving conditions, and SO MANY PEOPLE!
Just before we left the Windy City, a deadpan-faced policeman noticed we were a couple of minutes over our 2-hour-parking limit. He was preparing to write out a ticket as we returned to the car, and of course offered no grace in the matter even though we were THERE and intending to leave. We were lawbreakers – by two lousy minutes. And so were issued a fine.
It was an interesting day on several fronts, and yet I am exhausted and glad to be out of White Knuckle Zone. It’s an intense place for those who are younger and more vivacious than Old Fogies from the boonies.
1 comment:
"White Knuckle Zone" -- That's a great description :)
Our daughter and her family live there...I have lived there myself 6 years...
FAScinating place! So much to see.
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