Being a strong-willed woman as well as spending several decades as a resolute mother, I am not accustomed to ceding power.

My daughter is also a leader.

Within the family dynamics, she is always in control of directions and is the Wiley Waze Maven as well as the Uber Empress.

Courtny earned her stripes on Saturday during the Womens March On Washington, leading the pack of #36Strong to the bus, encamped in a remote Washington neighborhood.

The following day, we spent hours touring Washington.

I did the planning and she led the way, calling for Ubers when our feet failed us.

In a 36 hour time frame, we clocked 18 miles and thousands of steps.

I had an Aha Moment during a sleepless Sunday night, while dealing with a nasty flu inherited from my husband.

The alarming thought was, “Am I getting old and thus need to follow rather than lead?”

Well, I am happy to say that I can still get myself out of a pickle and do it competently.

Monday dawned tumultuous in Washington D.C.

I was due to take the 1pm Amtrak train back to NYC.

I was sick as a dog and could barely get out of bed.

At noontime, I headed to the lobby and not an Uber or a taxi was to be had.

Somehow, I found the Circulator a few blocks from the hotel and for $1 I boarded the bus that dropped me off in front of Union Station.

Drenched, I dragged myself to the boarding gate and found a seat in the business section of the Acela to Penn Station in New York City.

The 50mph wind was howling, the rain relentless, but we experienced an uneventful journey until we reached New Jersey.

The dreaded announcement came.

Apparently a live wire had fallen across the tracks and we were not going anywhere…indefinitely.

Eventually, a well dressed Amtrak representative strolled up the aisle to say we were being evacuated and transferred to another train to sit and wait…no timeframe known.

I took action.

I quickly checked my Uber app and the ride to NYC would cost $150-200.

I put it out to the universe, but no one around me wanted to add to the $192 price tag that we had already incurred.

I overheard a woman behind me calling her driver in NYC.

He was on the way.

I jumped up and said I was onboard.

We quickly gathered up our belongings and headed to the frigid waiting room in Metropark Station to await the arrival of Huascar.

My fellow escapee was Julia, a lovely, bright woman who runs an educational nonprofit.

We spent the time getting to know each other.

Within the hour, Huascar rushed in, a knight in a black shiny late model 450 Lexus and drove with bold determination up 95 N, through the Lincoln Tunnel and, finally, landed in the NYC rush hour traffic further complicated by the raging storm.

Three hours after the scheduled Amtrak arrival time, I was home.

I was road tested.

Reassured, I can now hang back and allow others to lead, secure in the fact that I still got it.