06/29/2004 21:44:29 -0500 GMT

Stormshine

One of the things I really like about Birmingham is the variety in the weather. Most of my life I lived in the most beautiful climate on the planet, in southern California. In contrast to that climate, Birmingham has moderate seasonal changes, and some awesome storms. It's the thunderstorms that really impress me. Tonight we had one while I was driving home, and while it wasn't the worst I have driven in here, it took a strong second place.

I ran an errand after work, and when I got out of the car, I was east of the storm. I saw grey clouds moving so slowly that I had to look very closely to see which direction they were moving. Other clouds to the west were moving in the opposite direction. I wondered if this was how funnel clouds formed. A flash of lightning sliced through the sky in the western distance, and thunder pealed down around me. But there were no drops, and strong sun shone through from the thinner sky eastward. My errand complete, I called Maggie and asked her if it was raining at home. She wasn't sure because she was concentrating on studying. I had a feeling I would be running into some rain during my cross-town jaunt home. No worries though. Just be patient with the traffic, and get some good tunes on the player.

Fifteen minutes later the drops began falling, first from the trees that hung over the road I was traversing, then a few drops that could only be coming from the gaps between the branches. By the time I reached Homewood, there was a darker color to everything, enough that I put on the headlights. I noticed in the reflection of the car in front of me that the my driver's side headlamp which had been only dim a week ago was now completely extinguished. I picked the wrong day to have a headlight out.

Last week I learned a new road that crosses a secant through the southern half of Birmingham, along Saulter Road. I used that for the first time tonight, and avoided quite a lot of traffic. Saulter runs into Greensprings near Lakeshore. At a long light, I called Dad, and his background noise was loud, and static-filled. His first words were, "I hope you're home." Thinking sensibly after he described heavy rains near Lakeshore, I suggested we get off the phone and call each other later. I drove the half-click to Lakeshore, turned west, and hit rain just as I crossed over the interstate. The rain was formidable.

I saw a car pulled off to the side, parking lights on and waiting. I turned the CD up over 20, to compete with the sound of heavy pattering of rain on the body of the car. Sheets of rain smeared across the road, dancing like mystical banshees that formed ghost-like shapes, dashing through lanes of traffic, absorbing a vehicle next to me, and then out of sight as another banshee engulfed my vehicle. Thunder fell like a cone, heavy and shaking over the live U2 playing in my space. I queued a live rip of Where the Streets Have No Name, and while I was concentrating, I still imagined the lads tearing through a live set of this song in an uncovered coliseum, thunder booming across the crowd, water-damage to the equipment be damned. This rocks!

Traffic merging on the interstate crossing under my road was heavy, as was Lakeshore traffic behind me. In a fleeting instant, I recalled a worse storm, where I was driving on the interstate and realized I could not see in front of me...at all. My windshield wiper blades were no match for the sheets of water then, and I flipped my blades to high this evening. I put the truck into four wheel drive about 30 seconds later, and turned on the hazard lights as I switched into the left lane. A pick-up truck followed close behind me, urging me to drive faster, but mentally I  said, that's why the hazard lights are on, buddy. I am the hazard. We waited through a couple of cycles of the light at Lakeshore and Oxmoor. Another pickup gave up on the storm, and pulled over in the V-shaped median to my left. The median had water in it enough to make a three foot wide river at its deepest point.  With or Without You came on, a tune so familiar to me that it went into the background of my consciousness. Maggie called, concerned about whether I was able to drive. I was short with her, trying to make the left turn with phone in hand, rain on the windscreen, and an unclear line of sight.

Rock and roll music set the rhythm in the background. Thunder accompanied in occasional bursts, felt as much as it was heard. Lightning provided the pyrotechnics. One strike hit straight down, seemingly two car lengths in front of me, and I wondered if I was touching any metal. Would the car go dead? The car smelled like a gym bag, and a fog began to form on the inside of the windscreen, shielding my vision further. I checked the hazard lights and pushed the air conditioner button quickly, twisting the dial to defrost. Pressing on, hazards flashing, mindful of the oncoming traffic that could lose control, I bore over the hash marks separating my lane from the lane to my right. Focus!, I thought, and also, God, is this fun!

The four wheel drive slipped back into two wheel, and I jammed it back in. At the lowest point on the back side of our three-mile diameter hill, a surprising stream of water crossed the road. The water was nearly a foot high, and moving fast enough that there was whitewater. I realized there were two cars on the oncoming side stopped in the stream, under control, not drifting, but waiting for the storm to pass. The second was a late model Mercedes. Not what I would do, I thought, as I pressed on through the water. My four wheels gripped, but the speedometer leapt several times as one or more tires lost traction. We passed through the temporary river, I and the pick-up behind me, still sticking close. Up the hill was easier, steady at 35 mph, mindful even more as down hill traffic coming the opposite way could hydroplane at any moment. Finally, at the crest of the hill, I mentally tracked the remainder of road I had left, and figured the worst, or the best, was behind me. I called Maggie at the next light, and told her I made it through. She told me she would get the garage door open for me when I got close.

I was a disappointed when the force of the storm abated.