You have heard of storm chasers, well last night Scott and I were storm runners. Our destination Fort Worth Texas, home of American Paint Horse World championships where we will spend our next three and a half weeks. As I shoved the last bit of anything I could find in our 4 door 650 truck, the skies were clear, and it was a balmy 92 degrees. Twenty four hours later not so nice.
If your married you will understand what I am about to say, if you are not married, lucky. When your husband and you disagree about traveling routes he always wins. He knows he is right because he talked to that guy that has drove it fifty times and this way is better. Even when the GPS kept begging us mile after mile to turn around your going the wrong way he wouldn’t listen, her voice is female you know.
Around 30 miles into the new route a two lane highway heading us to Clovis New Mexico instead of a 4 lane interstate heading us to Amarillo Texas, we came suddenly to a complete stop. In front of us are miles of stopped cars in both directions, flashing lights, with barley visible wreckage.
How many hours setting in a hot truck in the middle of nowhere on a road you did not want to take does it take you to surrender. Well all two and a half of them. If any of you know me I try to stay pretty positive, with one exception, disagreements with my husband. But I took my deep breaths decided to make the best of things and got out and stretched and tried to let go of my need to be right.
Since I already needed a potty break before we had stopped needless to say I was uncomfortable. You see Scott only stops when we need fuel and we now have a 100 gallon tank, and for whatever reason his 50 year old bladder is as good as it was 30 years ago.
No cars are moving in either direction, right, so I climb between the truck and trailer with barely enough room to fit decide nature has called long enough. Just as I am to the can’t stop now stage mostly standing because there is not enough room to squat the gentlemen that owns the car directly in front of us decides to come visit. He looks with amazement as our eyes meet with some delay between what is she doing in between the truck and trailer to what is that running out from underneath there truck. Needless to say when it all came together for him our greetings were brief.
About an hour into the patience growing seminar things were looking up, a nice breeze picked up and clouds began to form. The temperature dropped noticeably and I softened ever so slightly and mentioned to Scott that at least the weather was bearable, and I am so grateful we were delayed at the Taco Bell while someone spilled there 64 oz coke, and that women directly in front of us went postal at the clerk for giving her the wrong change, I know a few words in Spanish and she used all of them. But with my new found attitude of gratitude life wasn’t so bad. After all that could be us in the wreckage, or oh yeah we could be on the interstate.
In Texas in June when the weather cools quickly it usually means take cover and leave your mobile home, and for heaven’s sake don’t drive around on roads you have never been on in county’s you don’t know the name of listening to the radio that list the county’s that have tornado touch downs.
In Utah we are a four season state, but usually the season’s space out every three to four months. Not mixed together and elevated to the tenth power and delivered on your windshield. You can imagine my terror when on the radio was word of softball size hail, one thing I do know is different sizes of balls. Golf ball, baseball, maybe, but never softball size hail. Four and a half inch rockets sent from 65,000 feet up are not considered gifts from heaven. Every town we just had passed was reporting softball size hail. Reports of half naked men lay out on their couch as suddenly big white rockets shoot through the ceiling of their 1972 mobile homes.
Mobile homes if there is a bigger magnet to disaster I would like to know. Mobile to move off foundation be turned over by a gust and oh yeah did I mention people usually put tires on the roof to keep it attached. Or maybe all this time it has been bumpers for hail stones. If a mobile home park moves next to you, best call the realtor.
Well after 14 hours in the truck and one all beef hot dog at the truck stop we finally found the last room in Snyder Texas, a heavy smoked in hundred dollar foxhole. I put a towel down on the ground, dropped to my knees and thanked God I get to live for another day.
Safe, tornado less journeys,
Danna
No comments:
Post a Comment