an apocalyptic deluge
It was still hot by the end of the day, the kind of pressurized heat you feel before a storm. I started looking for a place to camp and eventually ended up in a trailer park in Henderson. As I was setting up my tent Earl Byrne rode up on his motorcycle to make sure the water was working.
Earl was in high school and the Fix-It Man for his parents' park. I never saw him wearing a shirt, and his skin was evenly tanned over lean muscles. He fiddled a while as we talked then left to go get a part, returning shortly thereafter in a truck with an adaptor for a light switch. We ended up talking for more than two hours, mostly about bicycle touring, and his interest grew with each answered question.
Toward the end of the conversation, lightning started striking all around us. (The conversation ended mainly BECAUSE of the lightning. Lightning hitting within fifty yards DOES tend to abruptly stop any conversation)
When I say lightning, I’m not talking about the occasional flash followed by a low growling rumble fifteen seconds later. These were successive flashes IMMEDIATELY followed by eardrum imploding explosions. Earl turned on the car radio for a weather report and, from the sound of it, the weather wasn’t going to get any better overnight.
As we were hunched over the radio speaker, straining to hear the announcer, Earl’s parents drove up. After some quick introductions and explanations, Mrs. Byrne offered me the use of the trailer on the side of their house. The timing was comical. As I was thinking about it there was a retinal-paralyzing flash of lightning and a subsequent blast of thunder, the reverberations of which you could actually feel.
I answered with a high-pitched squeak, “YES!” even before the echo died out.
Just as I started packing up my gear, an apocalyptic deluge began. When the heavy, dime-sized raindrops began exploding all around me like mini-mortars I just uprooted everything and threw it in the back of the truck. I could transfer it to the trailer later.
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