Home and dry.
Well, I just survived The Night of a Thousand Toads. Yes, SoCal is in the grip of another rainstorm, and the toads are once again in the roads. Maybe they're trying not to drown? At any rate, it's not the best place for 'em, poor little buggers. It's Saturday morning, but it still looks like Saturday night. I'm home at last, and happy that I have the next two nights off, because we're supposed to get around three inches of rain this weekend, but it's supposed to taper off by Monday. Not only have most of the places I'm supposed to be patrolling turned into Mud Soup, but none of the buildings here are designed with the slightest precipitation in mind: everything leaks. Overhangs jut out a mere foot from the building, if there are any overhangs to begin with; the little corrugated tin roof over the gas pumps at work is so slight that you have to stand directly under the water run-off to reach the pumps. Our brand new, state-of-the-art Visitor Center, designed to use the least possible amount of water, has so many leaks that it has begun to take on a slight mildewy aroma. Out here, we don't have black ice, we have black water: where a puddle looks just like asphalt until you hit it and hydroplane for fifteen feet. Woo hoo!
Fortunately, the rain hasn't been cold. I don't really mind being out in it all that much as long as I can contrive to keep my feet and ears dry. (Tonight I was golden until about 35 minutes before the end of my shift, when I stepped into a four-inch-deep river of run-off that I didn't notice in the dark). Only the occasional 20 mph gusts of wind are making things interesting this time around. Last time the wind blew so hard that at times the rain would be blowing horizontally right into my earhole. Now I've perfected holding my collar up with my free hand while I unlock gates with the other.
At shift change today, my relief told me to be careful on the way home. Yeah, right, buddy. I'm not careful - I'm homicidal, suicidal, fungicidal, herbicidal and regicidal! I drive this antique Nissan like I'm Danica Patrick and it's a Lamborghini Murcielago. But I do have a couple of words of advice for my fellow Californians, those who don't have my talent for automotive excellence.
Suggestions for Driving In Wet Weather
Start braking well before you actually wish your forward momentum to cease. Try about 25 feet before you think you need to. This prevents inelegant and possibly fatal skidding into intersections.
Remember those funny white signs with the numbers on them that you occasionally glimpse as you rocket past? Those are speed limit signs. Unlike every other day of your life, you might want to take notice of the guidelines posted thereon, and even, *gasp*, implement them. You could, if you're feeling particularly well-inclined toward your fellow man, even low-ball it a little.
Now you know, and knowing is half the battle. Yo, Joe!
Fortunately, the rain hasn't been cold. I don't really mind being out in it all that much as long as I can contrive to keep my feet and ears dry. (Tonight I was golden until about 35 minutes before the end of my shift, when I stepped into a four-inch-deep river of run-off that I didn't notice in the dark). Only the occasional 20 mph gusts of wind are making things interesting this time around. Last time the wind blew so hard that at times the rain would be blowing horizontally right into my earhole. Now I've perfected holding my collar up with my free hand while I unlock gates with the other.
At shift change today, my relief told me to be careful on the way home. Yeah, right, buddy. I'm not careful - I'm homicidal, suicidal, fungicidal, herbicidal and regicidal! I drive this antique Nissan like I'm Danica Patrick and it's a Lamborghini Murcielago. But I do have a couple of words of advice for my fellow Californians, those who don't have my talent for automotive excellence.
Suggestions for Driving In Wet Weather
Start braking well before you actually wish your forward momentum to cease. Try about 25 feet before you think you need to. This prevents inelegant and possibly fatal skidding into intersections.
Remember those funny white signs with the numbers on them that you occasionally glimpse as you rocket past? Those are speed limit signs. Unlike every other day of your life, you might want to take notice of the guidelines posted thereon, and even, *gasp*, implement them. You could, if you're feeling particularly well-inclined toward your fellow man, even low-ball it a little.
Now you know, and knowing is half the battle. Yo, Joe!