the rain continues

At about hour 11.5 of the trip I discover the ominous rain clouds have returned as my traveling companion.  I decide that I can out run them.  “Run Run As fast as you can… you can’t catch me I am the gingerbread man!”  The real problem is that I am traveling north (mostly) and the storm is traveling east.  So it is not a matter of just staying ahead of the storm – I must get north of the entire system.  I delusionally decide to believe that I can. 

It starts to sprinkle.  I give Ladybug instructions to let me know as soon as it starts to rain inside (which she now understands, having just experienced it).  I drive through the sprinkles like a victim in a slasher movie (not that I watch those so I have no real idea what that must look like) trying to outrun the mass murderer.  Just keep driving.  Just keep driving.

But after about ½ hour I lose my battle with the rain when the clouds suddenly let loose and it starts raining in the car in about 10 seconds.  Luckily I have kept track of every possible exit since I started trying to outrun the storm.  There is an exit in less than a half mile and I just hope there is a gas station with an over hang I can hide out under.  And as it turns out, there is…but even better is that it is an abandoned gas station so it is just me and a dozen or so bikers who also stopped to wait out the storm.

I have no intentions of waiting.  The bungees are coming off and I am getting back on the road.  I will not let this slow me down – too much.  I start to pop off the bungees but one of them slips out of my fingers (slippery little suckers when wet) and flings across the car and almost hits one of the bikers.  It misses him by about an inch.  His girlfriend/wife giggles but he does not seem amused.  And here is where I would like to point out that again I am surrounded by lots of people who just watch me deal with the bungees but offer no help.  Although this time I am willing to admit that it might be because I tried to kill one of there own.

As I wait it out a little I text Lamama Loca.  She points out that it would have been easier just to buy a new swing instead of making the attempt to cart this one 17 hours to my mom.  Generally speaking this is true.  But not in this case.  First, I bought this swing for her for mother’s day one year so there is a sentimental attachment to it.  And second my mom lives in the middle of flipping nowhere.  Her town has about 5,000 people in it.  Their idea of a grocery store most people would mistake as a convenience store.  The nearest town that is larger than hers is at least a 45 minute drive – through the mountains.  So while this is a hassle, it still may be the easiest way for her to get a swing for her deck.

I have waited out the storm but it appears to not be letting up at all so I get back on the road.  But whatever I have done this time sounds terrible while driving.  I am not trusting this at all so I take the very first exit again.  And miraculously it stops raining as I pull off the highway.  I stop at a gas station that is filled with RVs.  Again I crawl all over the car attaching bungees with no offer of assistance from anybody in the area.  But by now I have decided that is a good thing because the only person who would offer to help is likely a murderer and I don’t want help from a person like that.

I get back on the road as my phone rings.  I quickly put on my blue tooth ear thingy because I can’t remember if I am in a state that prohibits the use of hand held devices while driving.  I learned the lesson a few years ago.  It is my mother:

My Mama: What are you doing?

Me: Cursing you!

My Mama: What?  Why?  Because I live so far away?

Me: Sure.  And the swing.  And I am blaming the rain on you, too.

She laughed.

And luckily that was the end of the rain on this part of the trip, aside from a few sprinkles that did not require me to stop and crawl on the car.

Mean Mama