Saturday, August 13, 2011
Driving into Rain
Up ahead the blue-gray bulk of storm clouds shades the line of trees to a glowing, bright green, a trick of light played on the eye. Above, the sky is mostly blue and sunlit; thick beams of light stream through more benevolent clouds than those in the distance. The concrete of the road is still dry. A few fat drops of rain hit the windshield like thick oil, streaking through the layer of dust you hadn’t noticed before. The rain picks up suddenly and the light shifts, changes, darkens. Wind buffets the car. Suddenly the rain comes, falling straight down and heavy, bouncing up off of the road, turning it black and shiny. The inside of the car is a comforting sanctuary - despite the staccato of the rain on the roof - isolating you from the wet and the wind. Nevertheless you grip the wheel a little tighter and lean closer to the windshield. The sound of the radio becomes a distraction and you turn it off. Car lights on the other side of the road shoot long, bright fuzzy beams onto the pavement; cars in front drag red wavy lines behind them. You're pulled along by their crimson threads, heading deeper into the gray, driving straight into the storm.