Weathering It

Dear J-

More rain the last couple of days; safely slow in the stately Subaru (130K miles now and still as strong as ever — meaning not very — though the clutch is starting to slip in 5th and the “check engine” light has been on for the last five thousand) and warm, I watch the wipers smear the drops ineffectively, reminding myself again to change the blades when I get the chance.  After all, I’ve got a spare set in the garage.  It’s irresistibly cosy behind the wheel, dry, watching the weather slide by outside, and knowing there’s nothing to do but fiddle with the HVAC to balance the fan between the steady, sleep-inducing roar and check if my voice has improved any on any number of sing-alongs from the Ramones to Bride and Prejudice.

You can listen to the rain too, though, shutting the radio off and listening to it drum on the thin steel roof like some tropical drum; this morning we had what we used to call a Pineapple Express blowing through, warm and wet.  If you could close your eyes (still driving, remember) you’d imagine it to be blowing through your beach-front hut, now contrasting the whisper of rain on sand with the the insistent thrumming on tin roof and fronds.

But my favorite part of the rain is watching it end:  first the moisture on the pavement gets eaten away by magical patches of dry, then the clouds themselves slink away like party guests who’ve overstayed their welcome, wandering around and spilling drinks while you attempt to clean up around them, hoping that they’ll take the hint.  Clouds breaking is like that first hint of decongestion after a week of being ill:  unfamiliar, but gradually you grow to appreciate how wonderful normal is.

Mike

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