What a weird night.
The folks here in Mobile – and perhaps all Alabamians – have deeply absorbed the NASCAR way of driving: no turn indicators, quick starts, quick stops, weaving in and out of traffic. It takes some getting used to.
So here I am on the straight-away at Talladega – otherwise known as Airport Boulevard – trying to stay out of the way of a pickup with a lot of get up and go when he slams on the brakes, leaving me flying by in the right lane. So I hit the brakes as a fire truck goes swerving across six lanes of traffic and wheels off into the night. No sooner did we get the green flag and take off like bats out of hell before I hear a strange thumping all over the car. I heard and felt the huge raindrops before I registered that it was raining. And it rained like hell. One minute it’s completely dry, no rain for days, and the next there are thumping big raindrops crashing around in a blinding downpour. And a mile later, you’d have never known it rained at all anywhere within fifty miles. A perfect little storm front apparently immobile.
Bizarre. I blame the full moon myself. Has to be something like that. Much as I like Mobile, I am ready to move west. Mississippi here I come.
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