So during the Rollapalooza tournament there was this long, steady, deep rumbling. Since the tournament was in a bowling alley this was not particularly surprising. Except it seemed like a pretty long rumbling for a bowling alley that wasn't actually all that busy at the moment. A quick check out during some down time revealed yeah, it was thunder. A lot of thunder, and a lot of rain.
When I say ``a lot of rain'' please understand: I mean more rain than you're thinking of. This was too much rain to say it was raining cats and dogs. This was a rain so intense that I could point to it and tell bunny_hugger that that was what the monsoons in Singapore were like. It was a heavy enough rain we couldn't see the cars in the parking lot, and that from the front door. Helping the absolute curtain of rain was that the overhang in front of the building gathered and dropped water in sheets at the edge of the patio.
As a vast, mind-boggling amount of rain this inspired cheer. Laughter. Gratitude that we weren't driving in it. BIL, a high school teacher and organizer of multiple tournaments in his basement, led some of the kids in quick races out into the rain and back in again. Some of the adults too. I didn't join. The bowling alley was air-conditioned enough that I didn't want to tromp around inside in wet clothes.
The amazing thing for how intense the rain was is how long it went on. It would eventually drop down to a moderate rain, but that took an hour-plus. That would give us time to not make finals and to eventually decide to head home. It was rainy, sure, but I'm not a timid driver.
I got to be timid, when the rain picked up again and approached, at least, the intensity of that initial front. It's harrowing to be on the Interstate and need to slow to about thirty miles an hour, hazard signals flashing because there's just no visibility. That we got past without difficulty and then realized what was waiting for us near Lansing.
The interstates, being, well, interstates in-between cities and with plenty of grass to absorb the water handled the rain tolerably well. The surface streets in town? Not so much. There were inches of rain on the roads we needed to get to our actual home. We tried to think of the route that kept us to the most major roads, and the ones with the fewest potholes, and even then had to swerve around some standing lakes that threatened to sink my low-riding Scion tC.
The last road we couldn't avoid, what with our living on it. I just had to plunge ahead and trust that the car wouldn't stall out or have anything else permanently bad happen to it. And, for a wonder, our block with all the potholes was no particular trouble, a relief after a couple blocks of unavoidable ponds and waves of the car splashing into it. No harm done.
So I thought, anyway. The next time I took the car out I heard a scraping, some of the time. This proved to be the shield underneath the engine, which had gotten pulled half loose and would scrape on many inclines. At the dealership they judged that some of the mounting points had gotten ripped off, surely by the car trying to get through flooded streets. There was no replacing the mounting points without replacing the front bumper. But they could (and did) push the shield back up, trusting that the remaining bolts and the lip of the bumper would keep it safe, at least until the next time I had to drive through a reemergent Lake Algonquin. Shall see.
Trivia: A force of about a hundred US Marines remained in Nicaragua from the end of the civil war in 1912 until 1925 and the formation of a coalition government between conservative President Carlos Solórzano and liberal Vice-President Bautista Sacaso. Shortly after the Marines left General Emiliano Chamorro Vargas and Adolfo Díaz launched a coup driving the liberals from office and, by January, Solórzano too. Source: America's Wars, Alan Axelrod.
Currently Reading: The Story Of Story Book Land, Tina Skinner.
PS: There's Still Time To Ask For Things For The Mathematics A To Z, a reminder.