As pretty and refreshing as rain is, there are few things as scary as having to share the highway with 10,000 of your closest motorist friends under a really thick downpour that coats the windshield with water so thickly you swear you cannot see past the end of the hood, if that.
Especially when those motorists think that driving at 55-60 miles per hour is a total grandma speed.
And especially when about 50% of those Speedy Gonzalez-type motorists happen to be very large 18-wheelers, whose eighteen wheels are busy splashing all kinds of water in your general direction.
And when the other motorists like to leave their lights off, leaving you to guess their location by cussword-laden pings.
I’m glad to be home and hearing the distant and not-so-distant thunderclaps from my own comfy house.