LJ Idol Survivor: Challenge 6: When it rains, it pours

[flipflop_diva]

It was hot and sunny when we piled into the car at eleven in the morning, not even a single cloud in the sky. Our destination lay about 100 miles south, and the whole day promised to be full of fun and excitement.

Later that night, the American Dental Association’s annual meeting would be getting under way in San Antonio. As members of the dental press, it was our job to go and report on it and put together a daily newspaper to be handed out to attendees.

I was excited. I had never been to a dental convention in Texas before, even though I’d had my work-from-home job for a few years now, and I wanted to show off my state to my coworkers, all of whom lived elsewhere and most of whom had never been to Austin until they came in the day before to stay with me for the night.

Our first stop on the tour was my favorite Austin restaurant, Hula Hut, which I loved as much for the delicious blend of Tex-Mex and Hawaiian food as I did for its gorgeous view overlooking the lake.

We got a table outside on the deck and ate our food in the sun. The chips and queso were devoured in the first few minutes, and I smiled happily that everyone seemed to enjoy it as much as I did.

It was still hot and sunny an hour later when we piled back into the car, after taking a ton of photos and sneaking a last few chips, although there were some clouds in the sky by now.

I didn’t worry about those as I pulled out of the parking lot, pointing my car toward the entrance to the freeway. We were going to stop at Buc-ee’s (need gas, fudge and a full-size barbecue? Sure, they have that there) and then spend a few hours sightseeing in San Antonio before we had to be dressed for our full staff dinner that night.

We made it about thirty minutes down the freeway before our plans hit a little snag.

The first drops of water splashed on to my window, and I glanced upward, frowning at how half of the blue sky seemed to have disappeared in an instant, being replaced instead by gray clouds that stretched on for miles.

My co-workers were chatting animatedly about something, and I tried to focus on that instead. What were a few raindrops and a couple gray clouds anyway? They surely would disappear before we got close to San Antonio.

Spoiler alert: They did not disappear. Not even a little. Instead, the sky grew darker as we drove, the gray looking more menacing by the minute.

The raindrops started to get a little heavier. I turned on the wipers and took a deep breath and tried to calm myself. It was just a little rain. No big deal.

The rain grew even heavier as we drove. The sky grew darker. My coworkers stopped talking to look out the windows.

I gripped the steering wheel tightly and focused on just moving forward. I told myself it was fine, I was fine, it was just rain.

-

Rain was pouring from the sky, most of it streaking sideways thanks to the force of the wind. The drops pounded the side of the car as we plunged forward down the highway that wrapped around the mountain.

I thought my dad was trying to be funny when we crossed first one lane and then another without slowing down or even attempting to use a turn signal.

But the car kept going. Off the side of the road, down the hill, through the grass, toward the trees.

My mom screamed. I screamed.

The car was spinning in circles as my dad fought to keep control.

A huge tree was in front of us. We weren’t slowing down. I wondered if this was how we were going to die.

We kept spinning. There was a crash, the sound of metal scraping, branches breaking. And then a thud. And we stopped. Caught in the branches just inches from the trunk.

Outside the rain poured down.

-

I shook the memories from my thoughts. I couldn’t focus on the past, only on what was happening now. And what was happening was rain that was not stopping.

We kept driving, the wipers on maximum speed.

“It’s just rain,” I told myself, over and over and over.

We crept along. The rain began to slow. I took a deep breath.

And then it was like the sky above had opened up and someone had poured a bucket over the car. The rain was as thick as fog. I couldn’t see even an inch past the end of the car. I could barely make out the white line that signaled where my lane ended and the next one began.

I gripped the steering wheel so tightly my nails left crescent shapes in my palms. I was barely moving — maybe five or ten miles per hour — but I couldn’t stop. We were on the freeway and there were cars behind me. If I stopped, someone would surely hit us. If I tried to change lanes, I’d probably hit someone.

But I couldn’t see at all — not in front or to the sides.

All I could do was keep going.

No one in the car talked, everyone holding their breath. I felt tears spring to my eyes, but I kept going.

“It has to end, it has to end, it has to end,” I whispered to myself.

It felt like forever. Creeping forward, praying that I wouldn’t hit someone, that someone wouldn’t hit me, that we wouldn’t hydroplane like what happened to my dad all those years ago.

I kept going, terrified and barely breathing.

Finally, as fast as it had started, it stopped. The rain disappeared. Just a few drops left. The clouds parted. I could see blue.

I almost cried as I stepped on the gas and looked around. There were cars on all sides of me, but somehow no one hit anyone else.

It happened again about ten minutes later. The same sheet of rain surrounding us, blocking out all sight. I slowed down again, barely moving, held my breath, prayed to anything that would listen.

This time when it parted, it left behind a lot of rain, but a nice steady stream I could predict. I still didn’t like it. All I wanted was to get there.

It took more than three hours to get to San Antonio that day, a trip that usually takes around an hour and a half. We never made our other stops. We just went straight to the hotel, pulled our stuff out of the car and made a dash inside before we were too soaked.

The hotel our company had booked for us was old and a little smelly and a lot stuffy, but as soon as I saw the small beds in my room, I threw myself down on one and felt the weight of the day finally begin to dissipate.

We had made it. We were okay. I was okay.

I still hate driving in rain.







Non-fiction. Some of the scariest hours of my life to be honest. I really hate driving in rain.




Thank you for reading! This was written for a new adventure in the therealljidol world — Survivor Idol! You can see all the entries here. Voting should be up on Tuesday night!

We are now fighting for individual immunity so I would appreciate if you could vote for me if you liked my work!

Comments

[bsgsix]

*hugs* Weather-driving PTSD is such a real thing, and I feel for you. This is why I don't drive in the snow - in 2003, I was coming from Michigan to Maryland (my now-husband lived in Michigan) and, on the Pennsylvania Turnpike, skidded off the side, hit a guardrail, and went down a small, tree-lined drop-off. It took hours to get help.

So if the weather looks poor? I'm staying in. That is something you don't shake, so I can absolutely feel the fear of what you went through in the rain with your parents. It's terrifying. And it really doesn't ever go AWAY. It's just the whole "I can drive 5 minutes in this, maybe, but NOT 5 hours" kind of thing. (Depending on the day, right?)

I'm so glad we're all writing together again, and am always happy to see your entries. Excellent work! <3

[adoptedwriter]

OMG! Yes! Trauma from driving in severe weather is a thing! So well expressed here. I just relived a few bad car rides from hell but that’s ok. Lol. Well done!

[bleodswean]

Yikes. I KNOW this experience and you captured it so so so well! The story of the hydroplaning is terrifying and terrible that you went through that. Glad you made it to the hotel safely. Great writing!

[eeyore_grrl]

When I was little I liked the sound and the feel of water rushing against the bottom of the car so that I could feel it through my feet. Not so much liking it these days...

[alycewilson]

I've experienced some scary storm driving myself, but I didn't have a prior bad experience making me even more stressed. Glad you were OK! You captured this moment well.

[halfshellvenus]

Ugh, I've driven in a heavy downpour like that, and you just feel trapped. You can't stop on the freeway (why is it always the freeway?), and you can't really see what's happening around you. All you can do is slow way down and hope. :O

[gunwithoutmusic]

Oh my God, the fear was palpable for me! I feel like an old fuddy-duddy sometimes but I hate even driving at night, much less in heavy rain where everything is dark and the wipers are doing basically nothing... Adding into that the memories of a terrible crash in similar circumstances, well, I'm proud of you for making it! I probably would have just shut down entirely.

Good work this week; you really put me there with you!

[swirlsofpurple]

*Hugs* That sounds so scary

[murielle]

Oh! I'm so sorry. Your lovely day spoiled by wicked weather.

You tell this so well, I felt right there with you. Brava!