Last night I drove through the most intense rainstorm ever in my life. It was spooky.
I got into DFW late, like every other flight into the area, because of bad weather. By the time I got out of the rental lot the rain was coming down in torrents. Since I've been in a funky mood, I burned a CD of some of my old favorites, so by the time I got out onto 820 heading west towards Fort Worth, Maggot Brain was playing. At this point, the scene ahead of me seemed like something out of a strange dream with the perfect soundtrack.
Lightning was hitting every 10 seconds and I mean daylight bright stuff. Blam. Blam. The entire world turned black & white like an old horror flick. With wipers on full twitch you still couldn't drive any faster than 30 mph. Blinding sheets and massive drops pounded the car, wind blew it sideways, fast-lane puddles dragged the wheels to the left.
Then suddenly after a rise in the road, lightning hit with a smack on the left side of the highway frighteningly close. Instantly all of the roadside signs went dark. I've never seen anything like that close up.
Ten minutes later at the hotel, it was all wind and no rain at all, though curbs were submerged churning with torrents of dark water coursing downhill. Glass doors were fogged to a soggy opacity and slammed shut as pressures tried to equalize. As I finally got into bed past the soaked floors and dripping windows, a tornado warning showed on the television for the county immediately north.
Today I can see 30 miles in any direction from my office and there is hardly a cloud in the sky. The newspaper says a four year old child was swept away by the flood.
Tiger Woods lost the US Open and the markets won't correct. Today is the day of events and circumstances beyond predictability, let alone control.
