Drive home
August 16th 2006 07:01
I went to Windsor derrotown for a three hour shift of work. The store was dead as, but the time went by painlessly enough. I arranged for Jon to come pick me up at 2 pm when I finished. I came out and saw thunder clouds brewing, and some lightning to match.
I rang Jon to see what was happening after about 10 minutes.
“Yeah mate, it started hailing before and I didn’t want to drive in it. I’m on my way now”.
Let me describe Jon’s ‘car’. It’s a two-door 4WD type deal, severely bashed from a rolling escapade. The roof is torn a little and the door frames are bent out of position a bit (this in turn means the windows can’t go all the way up). When it rains, it rains inside the car too.
Jon finally arrives after some seriously heavy rain has finished in Windsor. I get in and we drive off. It starts raining. It’s not too bad, only a little bit gets me. As we drive onwards the rain starts getting really heavy. Water is coming in everywhere. I look at Jon.
“You’re car is FUCKED”.
Jon smirks, rains pouring down the side of his arm, “What?” The rain starts to get really loud, Jon starts laughing, “Is that hail?”
“I think it is”. I’m getting fairly wet.
Jon starts laughing like a maniac, swerving the car about as hail starts pelting the window and roof, “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! IT’S FUCKING HAILING! AHAHAHAHA!!!!!”
“Shit!” The road turns white with ice, Jon has to hold the roof shut above his door frame to stop the hail from getting in.
“Fuck that’s cold!” Jon laughs as his arm shakes.
I grab a towel out of the back and pull it up over me like a blanket.
A few other cars have pulled over under trees, Jon finds a tree and parks under it. The hail gets heavier and heavier, covering the landscape like a great big sheet of snow. Some ice gets inside the car. The noise is deafening. It’s incredibly surreal to behold, Spring-time bush and road turning a wintry white, millions of golf-ball-sized pieces of ice pounding the car and earth, water splashing up everywhere. Eventually it stops and Jon deems it safe to continue. The road is covered in ice, some rural houses have layers of it on their roofs as if it were Europe or Canada. I muse, as we pass some farms, that it would have been funny watching how horses would’ve reacted to the inescapable downpour of hail. Jon calls me slack, then bursts into laughter at my impression of an ice-pelted horse. The hail is parted by tire tracks ahead of us, and soon melts away into sliding torrents of water.
Fifteen minutes later, the sun is shining again.
I rang Jon to see what was happening after about 10 minutes.
“Yeah mate, it started hailing before and I didn’t want to drive in it. I’m on my way now”.
Let me describe Jon’s ‘car’. It’s a two-door 4WD type deal, severely bashed from a rolling escapade. The roof is torn a little and the door frames are bent out of position a bit (this in turn means the windows can’t go all the way up). When it rains, it rains inside the car too.
My brother, Jon
Jon finally arrives after some seriously heavy rain has finished in Windsor. I get in and we drive off. It starts raining. It’s not too bad, only a little bit gets me. As we drive onwards the rain starts getting really heavy. Water is coming in everywhere. I look at Jon.
“You’re car is FUCKED”.
Jon smirks, rains pouring down the side of his arm, “What?” The rain starts to get really loud, Jon starts laughing, “Is that hail?”
“I think it is”. I’m getting fairly wet.
Jon starts laughing like a maniac, swerving the car about as hail starts pelting the window and roof, “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! IT’S FUCKING HAILING! AHAHAHAHA!!!!!”
“Shit!” The road turns white with ice, Jon has to hold the roof shut above his door frame to stop the hail from getting in.
I grab a towel out of the back and pull it up over me like a blanket.
A few other cars have pulled over under trees, Jon finds a tree and parks under it. The hail gets heavier and heavier, covering the landscape like a great big sheet of snow. Some ice gets inside the car. The noise is deafening. It’s incredibly surreal to behold, Spring-time bush and road turning a wintry white, millions of golf-ball-sized pieces of ice pounding the car and earth, water splashing up everywhere. Eventually it stops and Jon deems it safe to continue. The road is covered in ice, some rural houses have layers of it on their roofs as if it were Europe or Canada. I muse, as we pass some farms, that it would have been funny watching how horses would’ve reacted to the inescapable downpour of hail. Jon calls me slack, then bursts into laughter at my impression of an ice-pelted horse. The hail is parted by tire tracks ahead of us, and soon melts away into sliding torrents of water.
Fifteen minutes later, the sun is shining again.
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