A Little (Ha Ha) Rain

"And the rain, rain, rain came down, down, down in rushing rising rivulets…"

…and down and down and down…

Thus was the trip to Halfway-Between-Here-and-Cove-Valley-Camp

on the next to the last day of August 2014. 

What started out as a simple trip for a Labor Day sleepover weekend at my sister's house, turned into something like a scene straight out of Winnie the Pooh and the Blustery Day. The plan was for Amy to drive her car with two passengers and their belongings and I would drive my car with three passengers and their belongings. We would then meet my sister at a gas station where we would transfer Ryan and my nephew Josh to her van and Amy, Heather and my niece Jennifer would continue in Amy's car. Confused yet? 

They could have all fit in Amy's car for the trip and I could've saved myself the drive but my maternal worry was in overdrive and I didn't want to see Amy driving someplace she wasn't quite sure about direction-wise on a holiday weekend on a busy Interstate with a carload of precious cargo. All of the what-if's began to creep through my brain. I felt better leading the way, giving her the GPS so she could learn the road and off we went, Adventure's in Odyssey set to play because we didn't want to get bored on the way there.

When the rain started just on the other side of Cumberland, I was glad I decided to go along. The large, looming dark clouds were visible as we made our way past Frostburg and looked even more ominous as we traveled through LaVale. What started as a light rain changed dramatically and quite unexpectedly as we drove beneath a bridge. As we emerged on the other side, it was like we went through some kind of time warp. To say "it was raining" is an understatement. It was raining cats and dogs, or as they say in Slovakia, Czech Republic: “Tractors are falling.” And how about Ireland where you might hear: “It’s throwing cobblers’ knives.” Interesting...

A little rain isn't too bad to drive in; actually I find it rather relaxing. This rain though? Not so much. As we slowed down to about 30-40mph, we noticed many cars pulled off to the side, 4-ways blinking. It took about another 100 yards or so and we joined the other cautious drivers to wait out the worst of it. 

We waited. We talked. We bonded. We waited some more and the rain just kept pounding down. I tried calling Amy's cell phone to see what she was thinking. No answer. I tried to text her. No response. I reached into the glove compartment for an umbrella, finally deciding to brave the elements and dash back to her car to see if how long she wanted to wait. Adrienne then volunteered to go. After all, if I got out on my side I might get run down by a passing car. I didn't need much convincing.

Carefully, trying to avoid getting wet Adrienne opened the umbrella with the car door just barely open. Already though, water rivulets were dripping down the inside of the door and she knew she would just have to make a run for it. Jumping out, she bravely held the umbrella up over her head where it promptly turned inside out, it's black covered spines jutting out every which way.

Laughter promptly erupted inside my car. Loud, easy laughter that makes it hard to breath. Oh, it was funny.

After Amy, Heather and Jennifer stopped laughing, Adrienne gathered the needed information, discovered Amy forgot her cell phone at home, then sopped her way back to my car and tried to get in. The still inside-out umbrella had other ideas. Not wanting to fold up (the umbrella, not her) she was left with one option. Hold it outside the window for a while, or at least until she she could get it folded back up again, then dry off with the blanket that resides in my trunk for moments such as these.

Ah, moments such as these. Ironic isn't it that the papers that got soaked when her car door was open were the theatre programs that were left there from that night we went and saw Singin' In The Rain. 

After calling my sister to let her know we were running a little behind schedule, it seemed the rain was going to let up. We ventured back out into traffic and went about a mile when we had to pull off again. Seriously. This rain was ridiculous. I don't know when I've driven in rain that crazy.

This time, I was the one to get out of the car with the possessed umbrella. I held onto it though and I hopped into the other car to talk. I thought I may as well learn something from Adrienne's drenching. The plan was this: As soon as it slowed down, we'd go again, just driving slow and staying in the slow lane. If Amy or her defrost which was acting up wasn't coping, she'd flash her lights at me.

And that's what we did. We all rolled along smoothly, taking our time as did most of the traffic around us. Well, except for one truck which kept me over in the slow lane which I didn't know was going to make me exit where I didn't want to exit until it was too late. Nothing like a little detour when you are already late. I ran back to Amy's car again. The GPS said to go 3.3 miles on this "detour"which actually ran parallel to the interstate and we could get back on track. Whew.



Remember the underpass time warp? About 8 miles from our destination, we went under another bridge and the rain stopped. Just like that. I really don't think my sister believed us. It was cloudy there, but dry. But there the cousins are, safe and sound. Even the drenched hippie chick.

Adrienne and I still had to drive home and we decided to fill up the car since we were at a gas station. The others had already left when the rain started again. When I tried to swipe my card at the pump, it wouldn't work because of the storm. I just hoped it was moving on down the road and not back in the direction we needed to go. I needed have worried. This was the view going home:

The moral to this little tale? 

Hmmm, let's see….

"Always keep an umbrella in your glove compartment and a blanket in your trunk."

Well, maybe. 

How about this:

"When in doubt, sit it out."

Now, that's a possibility. 

I know.

"The best thing one can do when it’s raining is to let it rain." ~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

And thus we did.

Love, Dianne