When I woke up on July 18, 2007 it wasn't even raining.  By the time I got in the car forty-five minutes later, it was pouring.  I had my wipers sloshing at top speed and still visibility was poor.  My usual fifteen minute commute was definitely not happening; half an hour into my drive, I was still nowhere close to work.  There was flood in almost every street corner I crossed.  There were broken down cars at the most inopportune places.  Railroad crossings were barred down and the trains would come crawling slowly or they wouldn't even come at all.  Now, this seem frustrating but in reality I was o.k. with it - the last thing I wanted was to get into an accident.  How many accidents have occurred because people rush in inclement weather?  I was patient and smug about it as other cars honked their horns without achieving anything.

Another forty-five minutes later, I was still on the road and I started to feel my bladder stretch.  I did go before I left the house but I also drank a lot of water that morning.  At first it was like a whispered reminder to stop by the restroom the next chance I got but then as I drove my bladder nagged me more and more.  No problem, I thought, I'm just three to four minutes away.  I mean, traffic was terribly slow but at least it was moving; well, it was, till I was just a corner away from the office then all vehicles in front of me stopped.  All I needed to do was to turn right on the next corner - about 400 yards away - and then I'll be at the office where self-flushing urinals await me.  So what was going on here?  Cars were stopped in the middle of a three-lane road.  There was a bus in front of me so I couldn't see much ahead of me.  I thought maybe there's another car that conked out or maybe there was a fender bender.

"Oh, please, please, please, move", I said to myself aloud, my knees shaking like they did countless times before back in first grade.  Got to get my mind off myself and my predicament.  Yet, as I looked around me, all I saw was blurred by thick curtains of rain; all I heard was hard pounding rain; even the scent was the scent of rain.  Urrgh.  To top it off, my windows where fogging up, so I had to turn on the A/C which chilled my skin like wet fingers going over, around, and through my body.  This was not helping. 

I considered my options.  The closest establishment I could stop at I had already passed - looking at the car behind me, I knew I couldn't back up.  I didn't have a water bottle.  Meanwhile, there's a lake in front of me.  My options were pretty slim.

Just then from my far left, there was this blue Pontiac that weaseled its way in front of me and into the right shoulder where it zoomed pass the bus in front of me.  The ticket-fearing citizen that I normally am would cuss privately at such brazenness.  Not this time - it was a time for action.  So, without further thought, I followed the Pontiac.  As I cleared the bus and four rows of cars, I then understood why traffic was at a standstill.  The road ahead was under two and a half feet of water and by the time I had stopped the car at this realization I had plowed myself a foot deep into it already.  And yes, so did the Pontiac.

There were a couple of cars, halfway immersed in water, by the sides of the flooded road, obviously not going anywhere.  Then there was this woman who was pushing her car stranded in the middle of the flood.    Not a good idea, I thought, as the waves (yes there were waves) could cause her car to sway beyond her control and hit her.

Now, I drive a Honda Civic, which means I don't have those big SUV wheels to give me that slight height advantage.  I knew if I sat there long enough, the water would seep through the cabin.  It probably was  already, I just didn't know it then.

So, should I wait for the flood to die down?  I didn't know how long that would be since it was still pouring pretty hard.  Besides, if I did, I knew the cabin will fill in with water.  If I backed up, I would most likely fill my exhaust pipe with water (I kept a steady pressure on the gas pedal to make sure I was blowing air out of the exhaust pipe).  And then, of course, there's my pee problem.  If I wait, I'm sure to contribute some yellow liquid to the cabin pool, in which case, I would need to go back home through that terrible traffic again.

There's only one way out of this tight squeeze (can't help the pun), and that's to drive through the flood.

I bit my lower lip, clenched my fist around the wheel, and stepped on the gas.  The water slid up the hood and slapped against the windshield.  Here goes nothing.  The engine was doing o.k. but then along  the deepest part of the flood, I heard a muffled moan from the engine and creaking from different areas of the car.  The car was slowing down.  I felt the trunk of my car lift up some and I just prayed that the front was heavy enough to keep traction with the ground beneath.  Water was now soaking into the mat underfoot.  I floored the gas.  Don't quit on me now, I prayed.  There's a big whine from the engine but, thankfully, it didn't stop - the car kept moving forward.  Oh, the wonders of front wheel drive!  Inch by slow inch I plowed ahead; even gave a sympathetic nod to the woman pushing her car.  I had to be careful not to skid when I pulled out of the water.  I also almost missed the turn I needed to make.  But in the end I made it to the office in time and still dry where it mattered.

I had to change the air filter, vacuum the cabin dry, blow-dry all nooks and crannies, and leave the windows open for several days afterwards - but that's a small price to pay for my stupidity.  The car still works. I brought the car to the shop just to make sure - they didn't find anything wrong with it.

Don't make the same mistake I did.  I was fortunate.  A co-worker of mine did the same exact thing, through the same exact flood, but his car was pronounced unsalvageable.  My advice: if your wipers are fanning at top speed and you still can't see much of the road, stop driving or don't even leave your driveway.  Oh, and carry an empty water bottle in your car.


                         Avec moi, les deluge.