While returning from an extended weekend trip to Midland, Anne and I amused ourselves (we are apparently very easily amused) by making fun of every little curve in the road, proclaiming it the only variance in an otherwise straight line that seemed to go on forever — this being, after all, West Texas.
More diverting was the fact that I began to notice the flatiron top of a distant thunderhead growing ever nearer as we sped toward the eastern horizon. I kept hoping that the highway might not veer away from this rare summer thunderstorm before we got a taste of it.
Sure enough, we eventually drove right beneath the beast, passing through one of the heavier rainstorms I’ve ever had the stones to continue driving through. Even at 40 mph with headlights and emergency flashers, danger lurked beyond every rise in the roadway — given the possibility that other vehicles might be standing still, spun out or otherwise disabled. But we made it through O.K., and I soon pulled off to photograph the dramatic rain shield visible from outside the storm.
Ominous lowerings of ragged clouds appended from the central mass, though none appeared to show rotation. Still, they added to the drama of the setting, a memory I will linger upon as the dreaded summer high pressure ridge builds over us to wipe out any hope of further rain development — a fate now facing us here in N TX for about the next three months or so.