Baaaaaaad.

Why is it that when I have to get up really early in the morning (six o'clock is early to me, y'all ... I am a certified lazy buzzard), I have a hard time sleeping soundly the night before? Such was the case last night. I went to bed earlier than I normally do (which is midnight or thereabouts) because this morning's job called me to Summerville, South Carolina, over 100 miles away, for two depositions, the first one beginning at ten o'clock, which meant I had to be there by nine thirty to set up, do a sound test, get coffee (please God, let this law firm have good coffee), and prepare to faithfully keep the record.

While I arranged my face and hair I listened to cable news and weather. A 200-mile-long squall line was poised to the south and east -- the very direction I would soon be traveling -- and tornadoes had been spotted lurking in the orangey-yellow cells. Even so, as I set out for Summerville what had been a heavy rain was spluttering down to a noncommittal random misty spitting. (The all-night downpour was part of the reason I had trouble sleeping soundly. I had the window open as it has been unseasonably warm, and the insistent rain accompanied by rumbles of thunder were woven into my sleep that was more like a series of fitful naps.)

But oh, the rain on I-26 as I traveled southeast! Torrential. The weather began deteriorating just about the time I reached the I-77 split and began the monotonous 75-mile leg to the Summerville exit. I had to breathe deeply to keep from white-knuckling the steering wheel as I passed mile marker 133, the scene of a grisly 2006 accident that claimed the life of a young Texan. I knew this because only a few weeks ago I sat through five hours of testimony in the resulting lawsuit. Remember the late Trooper Haynes? He was to have been deposed in that case today. He does not have to worry about that now. I said a prayer for his wife and boys. I also prayed for the gone-too-soon young Texas man's parents as I passed the bleak spot where he died alone, many miles from home and the hearts that loved him.

The rain continued to lash and drone. Visibility was reduced by more than half; everything was as gray as my little car. I kept to the right, eschewing the passing lane for at least 40 miles. Anxious, foolhardy (in my opinion) drivers barreled wetly and furiously by on my left. Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh! Then I saw the first wreck. It had occurred in the westbound lanes, going back Columbia-ward. The median is bifurcated by a stand of mature pines which abruptly stops the vehicles that, for whatever reason, leave their lane of travel in an uncontrolled manner. The result isn't pretty and this was no exception, but I only had a second to glance over so I can't give a full report.

I left the jittery bounce of candied flashing lights behind and continued on. The next wreck was about ten miles farther up the road; a one-car affair that may have only been a breakdown but was attended by no fewer madly sparkling signals of dire emergency. The rain relented for about two miles, then reasserted itself as if remembering what it had been so het-up about. (Wind-driven liquid weather can seem so spiteful at such times.) And then I saw what all motorists on all interstates dread: everyone slowing, everyone displaying brake lights. Everyone wondering how bad the situation is and how long it will take to break free. I fingered my cell phone, hoping I wouldn't have to call in late.

But, it didn't take long because evidently the accident had happened within the previous five minutes. It was again in the westbound lanes. A small car and a pickup had both left the road and -- whether making contact with one another first it was impossible to tell -- had slammed into the trees with enough force to accordion the vehicles. All four doors on the small sedan were flung open. The hood of the car looked as though it were attempting to climb one of the pines. Sullen smoke rose from the engine area. The small truck had met its tree-stops in more of a broadside fashion but had fared no better. A man stood forlornly beside it and I told myself he was the truck's fortunate, uninjured driver. What a way to start your week.

So: this is what I learned today. First, slow down on the interstate. The life you save may be your own. Especially when road conditions are less than favorable, SLOW DOWN. How I hope my children are reading this and, having read, obey. Second -- and I don't have time to explain this but it arises out of the three hours of deposition testimony we took (and they did have delicious coffee at the law firm in Summerville) -- don't ever sign anything until you have read and fully understand what you are signing. DO NOT let anyone rush you into signing something that you have not read. DO NOT get all emotional and in a hurry and stick your head in the sand. Read every single word before you sign, every single time. Hope my kids take that one to heart too.

I should quit now because this next thing I learned today is a total non-sequitur, but I don't think I can get a whole blog out of it and it's on my mind because it was also on cable news this morning. Apparently at many regular grownup rodeos, there is a popular event known as Mutton Bustin'. This is when small (sometimes VERY small) children are placed on the bare backs of sheep, where they cling precariously and are sent through a gate out into a ring as though they are riding a bull. Of course they're not far off the ground and sheep don't flail around as heartily as bulls, but the result is the same.

The brave little kid, after holding on for a few seconds, is deposited without ceremony on the hard ground. The mutton ride trots indignantly away. A rodeo clown rushes to the little kid to help him up, sometimes retrieving a stray boot or hat and replacing these items on the child's person. I suspect this activity is not restricted to male children, nor is it restricted to children who really want to do it. I hope all the parents of these kids do a bull ride ... just because.

I know you'd never doubt me, but just in case, here's a youtube.

Update on Tuesday, February 19, 2008 at 12:08AM by Jennifer

Comments

[Deppfest]

Heavy rain and fog - my two biggest driving nightmares! Do what I do Jenny - sing along to Sweeney in the car - it aids concentration and passes the time too!

Awful what some people do to their children, isn't it? Perhaps we should all take a test before we're allowed to proceed with the process of procreation - the perfect answer to the world's population problem!