When it Rains.. it Storms

We made it to Austin, but not without an adventure to get here.

Driving south towards Texas, we encountered patches of heavy winds and rain in Oklahoma. It cleared up, until we got into the Ft. Worth area. Black skies ahead and radar was showing heavy storms and warnings were issued for strong thunderstorms and flash flooding. I was at the wheel, feeling confident that I could navigate our rig through DFW in the wind, rain and traffic. Growing up in Austin, driving in Dallas had always been held up as a proving ground – it being the largest big city nearby with insane traffic. It seemed the perfect challenge to help me feel confident with trailer towing as it did with driving in general when I was younger.

The rain was coming in sideways, the sky lighting up with flashing bolts, the roads covered with inches of water, the winds gusting us about and traffic everywhere. I got us through the area with no other challenges and feeling confident to have overcome my fear of Big D. We checked radar, it looked like that the worst was now behind us and we were ahead of the storm.

Keep the pace. Stay ahead of the line.

Now traveling southbound on I-35E heading towards Waco. A line of storms appear off in the horizon. The rain and wind start picking up again. A rest area is indicated – I consider pulling over and either waiting out the storms or switching drivers. Still feeling alert and riding off the confidence of making it through Dallas, I decided that one last line of storms was in me.

Just a few minutes later I hit a patch of standing water. The Jeep and Tab hydroplane.. we’re lifted off the road for a mere instant touching down into a rocking and swaying fish tail.

I let off the gas.

I remember the moment vividly. The moment I knew there was no recovery.

Letting off the gas is not slowing us down enough. The sways increase and I can now see Tab in my view out my window. I lightly tap the breaks to try to decrease our speed any that I can to reduce our eventual impact.

Time slows down. My senses became hyper alert. Jeep and Tab lock into a jack knife at about 63 mph along the interstate. We spin from the right hand lane across the left hand lane traveling backwards into the opposite shoulder we started from.

Part of me wants to scream. A part of me wants to close my eyes and make it go away. Part of me yearns for a ‘re-do’ button or to be transported out of the driver’s seat.

It was about then that I mouthed.. ‘It’s over’.

And then it came over me. No. It wasn’t over. We were surviving this. We had to.

I tightened my grip on the steering wheel as my body loosened into a zen state. We continued the spin into the median. All the while feeling completely connected to my partner at my side.. hearing his voice in my head as we both manifested a safe stop. No talking. No breaking. No gas. Just controlling the uncontrollable.

I’m very aware of exactly where I’m at and what direction I’m facing as we continue to spin. And I’m very aware that while we were blessed to have crossed our side of the interstate without any traffic – there was lots of oncoming traffic on the other side of the interstate. My focus became keeping us in the median.

We’re spinning and sliding in the mud. And then we stop. Still jack-knifed having done a complete 360 circle plus another quarter. Stopped. In the median. Alive.

We hop out into the rain and mud, and I hear Chris exclaiming ‘Tab is OK!’. And so is Jeep. And so are we.

A fellow traveler stops to make sure we’re ok, and refused to leave until he knows we can still tow. Chris takes the driver seat and straightens us out.. Jeep still runs. Tab still follows. The good samaratian continues on with our gratitude for having stopped.

We sit in the median to regain our breath, and then get back on the interstate long enough to get to the next exit, where we give everything as good an inspection that we can. No damage except the new tongue box is smashed in on one side. The tongue box likely saved us from a more acute jack-knife, keeping Jeep and Tab from contacting each other.

—–

We’re stopped at a lovely travel center in Italy, Texas with friendly people and a BBQ restaurant. We order a sandwich and update my brother about the delay we’ve encounter. Our heartbeats come back down to normal and we talk about all the possible ways things could have turned out worse. There could have been traffic next to us. We could have flipped. It could have happened in an area with construction with little or no median. We could have gone off into the northbound lane. There could have been substantial damage to the Jeep or Tab – our home.

Blessed and grateful are the overriding emotions. And the strong reaffirmation that ‘home’ is where we are and that we could have handled any outcome together.

—–

We travel on southward, with Chris at the wheel taking it slow and easy – not totally trusting that there isn’t damage somewhere lurking. I jump at every sway, every bump, every slight drift. A bit further south the rains pick up more and its now dark out. There’s construction all over the place, with little to no shoulder area let alone median. There are big rigs whizzing by us, spraying water on us and sending us into mini sways. Chris sees a rest stop and decides to pull off so that we can possibly reroute off the interstate.

We look at maps, pick a new possible way into Austin and he puts the Jeep in gear. Rattling bumps. Is it rough asphalt? Hmm.. maybe. But best to check. I get out, take a tour around in the pouring rain and discover the rear driver side tire has gone completely flat.

I tell Chris, and we both break out laughing at the irony and simultaneously feeling fortunate for having gotten off the road when we did, otherwise we may have faced a blow out. Our guardian angels are working overtime tonight.

It’s lightening out and pouring rain, and lots of people taking shelter at the rest stop. We contemplate changing the tire out ourselves, but opt for calling AAA. We sat in Jeep, running my laptop and watched an episode of Battlestar Gallactica while we waited. AAA got out in under and hour and a half, and quickly changed the tire. They have the power tools and hefty jack.. and know exactly what they’re doing. Right choice indeed.

—–

And so we motored on. Taking no chances, we make way on the frontage roads going at a speed we’re comfortable at without construction and semi trucks. Not sure if the flat tire was related to the accident (indicating the other tires could face the same fate) or something else like a nail – we opted for being ultra safe. We finally arrived at my brother’s around 1 am and crashed with dreams of the accident replaying in my head over and over again. As I’m sure they will for quite a while.

Today we looked at the tire.. definitely a nail in it. Wow, what are the odds.

We also took everything out of Tab to take a close look at the structure. We did discover some leaks from all the rain – but they seem completely unrelated to the accident (we noticed some starting in Oklahoma). So thus far, the only damage evident by the accident was the smashed tongue box and some chocolates that escaped their box in the kitchen. And we may have discovered unrelated leaks that could have caused massive problems later soon enough to correct them.

We really are blessed.

And I have never been more thankful to be alive.

(For a view from the other seat.. Chris’ version of the adventure is here)