Racing the Texas Rain

Racing the Texas Rain

After a couple of days driving a wide loop around Waco, Pat and I decided to start heading back home to Bryan.  But, first we wished to see some old Norwegian historic buildings that we had missed the previous day.   About half way between Clifton and Cranfills Gap, we were reading the roadside historical marker about this isolated, country Ringness Museum, when the wind picked up and the leaves began to blow.  (According to reports, the legendary disk plow was invented here.)

Ringness House Museum

We knew that a Texas Blue Norther was arriving soon, but we had hoped to get out in front and beat it to Bryan.  Our "Dark Sky" iPhone app predicted about one hour of solid rain, so we did not wish to either drive in the rain or wait another hour for it to stop.  Since cold fronts generally advance at speeds of 20 to 25 miles an hour, we reasoned that we could stay ahead of this rain if we drove the speed limit.  They are named "Northers" for a reason -- so, if we could drive primarily in a southern direction, we should easily stay ahead.  Unfortunately, my hurried calculation did not include the fact that Bryan is not south of where we were; it is primarily east-south-east.  So, the norther was approaching from an angle, not directly from behind.

Three-day Loop

 

 

As we approached Cranfills Gap, we left the front behind.  But soon after leaving town, the front with heavy rain and high winds hit us full-force from the right side.  It was then that we noticed that instead of heading south, we were heading mostly west -- in order to reach Hwy 36 which would take us in a SE direction toward home.  

Blue Norther Near

 

The funky Horny Taod is legendary among motor bikers and brings them in large numbers to Cranfills Gap

Anyway, we drove in the heavy rain most of the way to Gatesville before we were able to outrun that onry, impatient, frontal system.  A quick stop for coffee took longer than expected, so by the time we started again, the leaves and dust had started swirling.  But, we quickly outran it before the rain started.  We traveled rain-free through Temple, but while waiting at a one-lane road repair stop light, we could see the front rapidly approaching.

Cold Front in the Blacklands

A detour slowed us more, but we drove rain-free to Hearne where we met clouds of dust as the front blasted through town.  We narrowly avoided the rain as we escaped toward Bryan,  But, somehow the frontal system outraced us to Bryan, where we again encountered heavy rain.  As we left town, the rain stopped and then started again.  It seemed likely that I would be opening our gate in a downpour and be soaked upon arrival at the house.  But, the rain stopped and did not hit again until we drove into the garage.  I got soaked while unlocking the front door.  Oh well!

As I reflect on this race that we won and then lost several times, I must admit that even driving in the wind and rain was not all bad -- even though somewhat dangerous.  In fact, it was a bit of adventure that we octogenarians experience less and less frequently as we mature.  That although our trip away from Bryan was enjoyable, our race back home was mostly fun.  

When the rain subsided we realized that it had only lasted about 30 minutes, so anywhere on this trip we could probably have simply stopped and waited for the storm to pass.  But, then we would have missed the adventure.  Right?  So, maybe we really won one of life's minor victories after all.

Table of Contents:  https://tinyurl.com/2p92uwe5

Hank and Jeb

Hank and Jeb

While hitting the high spots on Arkansas Scenic Highway 7, we happened upon a pullout containing one cement picnic table that was located high on Ola mountaintop above Lake Nimrod.  A couple of fellows were standing behind their two old Chevy pickups.  One of them was using the hitch on his blue truck as a footstool and the other was leaning against the side of the truck bed, and they appeared to be involved in some serious jawboning and drinking Cokes.

Because there are relatively few pullouts on Arkansas mountain roads, Pat and I stopped when one came available -- to view the scenery, take photos and chat with susceptible victims.  The two fellows looked up as I passed so I said "How you doing?"

"OK," they replied.  "How are you?"

So, now that I had their attention, I could not pass the chance to learn a little about their story.  Everybody has a story, right?  "Do you fellows live around these parts?" I asked.

But, before I get to their story, let me introduce them.

 The fellow on the left is Hank and the other is Jeb.  They have been friends ever since they were kids.  Hank lives on the north side of Ola Mountain and Jeb on the south side.  They both have separate vegetable gardens where they grow tomatoes, beans, carrots, corn and such.  "There's not much to see in our gardens now because our Spring crops are over and Fall crops have not yet been planted."

"Would you guys do me a big favor?"  I asked.  "Would you pose for a photo?"

"Sure," they said.  And, that's how I got the above photo.  Hank with his toothless grin and Jeb squinting like the sun hurt his eyes.  

"Can't help liking these earthy guys," I thought.

 Jeb volunteered that he sometimes fishes commercially for trash fish on nearby Lake Nimrod.  They are both avid hunters.  "Deer season will start on September 18th," said Jeb.

"So, you have already been hunting for two days?" I asked.

"No," said Hank.  "What day is today?"

"Today is September 20th," I replied.

"How do you know that?" Hank inquired.

"Well, the 18th was my birthday and my watch says today is the 20th."

I guess they found my reasons convincing.

Our conversation was interrupted by a sleek, black Harley bike that pulled off Hwy. 7 and parked nearby.  Its passengers consisted of a handsome, 40ish couple dressed in matching all black leather jackets with black helmets, boots and face-masks.  "Are you guys train robbers?" I asked.

They gave me a slightly amused look without comment.  The man stayed seated on his bike and the woman dismounted and strolled over in her biker boots.  "Tell you what," I said, "What would you take to climb up on that picnic table and sing us a song?"  She smiled, walked over to the table and climbed on top -- but did not sing a note.

 

After taking a couple of photos of Lake Nimrod and environs, she hopped down and said, "Now it's your turn." 

OK, now I felt a little trapped but obliged to continue the game.  

I somehow managed to drag my old bones up onto that table, but was at a loss about what song to sing.  The song that finally came to mind was "Aya en el Rancho Grande" -- so I croaked out maybe half of the first verse.  

"Enough is enough," I thought as I descended from those giddy heights.  The lady strode up to me, said some words in some foreign language that I could not understand, gave me a big hug then jumped back on her bike and in a cloud of dust, they disappeared south on Arkansas Scenic Highway 7.  Probably destined to rob a bank somewhere else.

 

"Well, events like that don't happen every day," I thought.

Bye the way, the guys were not really named Hank and Jeb.  I made that up.  Just seemed to fit.

Table of Contents: https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/6813612681836200616/3382423676443906063?hl=en