Those windshield wipers slappin' out a tempo...

The PSA "Turn around, don't drown" does not apply to driving in traffic on the freeway.  If anyone in a flow of traffic doing 55 mph or more hits their brakes for any reason, it's dangerous to some degree.  If someone driving in the rain sees water and stops, because they can't be sure how deep it is, they will find out one thing for sure --  what it feels like to be rear-ended.  If you're traveling on the freeway on a rainy day you know and accept that you'll drive through water.  

But there's water, and then there's WATER.

As I headed north today, on the 101, I drove in and out of showers.  The mist and rain softened an already scenic route and I was content.  I could see to drive and, on a rainy day, that's a major blessing.  Then something or someone upset the angels and they cried harder.  Much harder.  I could see the white truck in front of me and I stayed behind him, happy to slow to 50 mph (so you know it was bad).  

As we neared Chualar we slowed more, and more, and then we stopped.  Two lanes of traffic inched forward, and I had plenty of time to notice my surroundings.  I saw the dirt fields had morphed into brown lakes, the stream gushing alongside the road, the fact that few cars were going by in the southbound lanes, and finally a small, yellow sign on the edge of the shoulder that read: Flooded.  I'd pretty much figured that.  A police car squeezed by to my right and I wondered if he'd driven over the sign.

As a reminder (or for those who don't know),I drive a Saturn SL2.  It's a low car.  If your back is bothering you, you can't get in or out of my blue baby without pain.  No clearance is what I'm saying.  It's not a good car to be driving through a flooded area.  At that moment I very much wanted a Hummer.

Traffic wasn't stopped, after all, just moving very slowly.  I understood that this meant I'd have to drive through water, and a cop being nearby simply meant someone would be available to call a tow truck and write a report.  The raging river the stream had grown into was a big clue as to the amount of water up ahead.

I've driven through flooded areas before.  I know the rules.  Well, there's really only one rule: Don't stop or you'll stall.  Okay, two: If you're behind a truck, stay close or you'll go through twice as much water.  I was behind a truck.  I hate to tailgate.  It makes me nervous.  And if a trucker hits his or her brakes and a little Saturn is right behind?  Not a good scenario on a dry day.

All of us were in the left lane as we neared the spot where the berm had failed and the muddy lake sought its twin on the southbound side.  No longer crawling along, we picked up speed as vehicle after vehicle charged through the breach.  I saw, in quick succession, way too much water where the right lane had been ("Oh God, my car can't handle this, it's gonna die and the truck behind me will kill me! Shut up, don't think that, cancel, cancel, cancel!"), an 18-wheeler heading southbound throwing up plumes of brown water as high as the cab ("That's twice as high as my car!  I can't make it!  Shut UP! We can do this!), then the truck ahead of me hitting the water.  Adrenaline surged, tunnel vision set in, and I stayed as close as possible to the truck, chanting, "Thank you God" over and over and over --  it was the only positive thing I could think of to pray in the moment.  I was trying to block the fear of someone ahead of me stopping, or my engine drowning, or panic causing me to hit my brakes.  

I was truly panicked.  My guess is that we drove through two tenths of a mile of deep water.  It took forever.  Then it was over and I could see the road again and there was no traffic because everyone ahead of me sped off.  Just as I touched my brakes, to pump them dry, the song on the radio stopped and I heard a loud whine.  I was sure it heralded the death of baby blue and couldn't figure out why I still had power.  "This is an emergency report from the National Weather Service" cleared up the confusion.  They announced that there was a good chance of flash flooding in Monterey County.  

Good to know.

Santa, if you're reading this and I'm on the Nice list, I'd like an SUV.

Random Kindness

In the aftermath of any tragedy, such as the devastating hurricane Sandy on the east coast, people provide examples of the kindnesses of strangers and wish it could be that way all the time. I think there are just as many examples in normal, everyday life and we simply let them go by without remarking about them. After all, it's a lot more touching and dramatic when someone with power hangs out a sign offering to let others recharge their phones than if an average Joe does a good deed. Or is it? Someone going out of their way for you, for no reason other than being a nice guy, is touching in its own way. At least to me.

When I moved into my apartment I set up TV and internet service. I got a basic modem and used an ethernet cable to wire myself up to get online. It was fine for a while. But now I have my desktop computer set up, and the printer (which is supposed to work wirelessly -- another blog entry for another day), and I didn't want to have to buy a longer cable and switch back and forth between the desktop and the laptop. Merely for convenience sake I called Comcast to ask about going wireless.

The person I spoke to said I could get a wireless router at no extra charge. All I had to do was go to my neighborhood Comcast store and pick it up. She said I'd get instructions on how to set it up. I drove over to the store and a nice woman handed me the router and a cable. I asked about instructions. Oh, it was simple, and nothing extra was needed. If I called up for support I'd be charged, but I wouldn't need to do that as it was so simple. "All I had to do" was call in to be activated. All of that was bullshit, as it turned out. However, she did ask about my general happiness with Comcast so I told her that when I signed up I was told I'd get Showtime for 6 months and there is no Showtime on my TV. So she said she'd give it to me for six months. I checked, and she did that. Woo-hoo. Now I can watch Don Cheadle in House of Lies (when the season starts again in January).

I came home, looked at the pieces parts I now have, and connected the router to the best of my ability. Lights came on, but I had no idea if that was a good thing or not. I clicked on the list of available networks on my laptop, hoping one of them would say, "brand new, as yet unnamed network -- click here, Mary." Alas, none did. The top one on the list was Gutierrez, which meant nothing to me other than being the last name of my nephew. I called the 888 number the woman had given me "to activate" myself.

I spoke to a man who informed me that I had to configure my network, not simply activate it, and for that I needed tech support. A tad peevishly I asked him why that was, since I hadn't been told that. He said it was the way it was, and he'd transfer my call. I was on hold long enough to win two games of FreeCell and be in the middle of a third when my call was answered by a guy I'll call Robert (not his real name). He was surprised when he heard what I needed. He said tech support didn't support routers anymore, yet I was the second call he'd had today wanting that very thing.

I told him that I'd been transferred to him from some other Comcast employee, and I was a bit confused by this time, too. I managed to keep a tone out of my voice when I said that I wouldn't have waited so long to get through if I knew I was supposed to be calling somewhere else. He said there was nowhere else to call, literally, as Comcast doesn't support this antiquated system of using both a modem and a router anymore. There's a new "Gateway" system that the locals in Lompoc obviously don't know about yet. When he asked me for my phone number he said, "Sheesh, I have no idea why they routed you to me. I'm in Chicago." (Actually he was somewhere else, but I'm purposely not identifying him.)

I think I said, "oh." Small voice. I mean, it wasn't a tragedy. I could simply use my modem as I had been and get right back online, and figure out what to do later. It was simply a waste of time and an annoyance. But Robert said, "I'll help you. I'll walk you through this blind, if you want." I did want.

He proceeded to have me unplug and power down, then use the ethernet cable to get me to a place online where I could set up my network and security. The page was supposed to come up with an empty space where the network name goes, but it came up with Gutierrez. I could almost see Robert shaking his head in disgust as he told me that I'd been given someone else's router (that they'd obviously returned) and it hadn't been reset. We reset it. I named my network and picked a password, with Robert stressing that I'd better never forget it as getting help at that point would be impossible. We were joking with each by that time, and he told me he hadn't gotten my name at first so I told him again. He said, "Mary. That's a nice name. Mother of God and all that." I said, "Oh, there's no way I can live up to that." Then everything was powered down again, and I brought it all up in the order he told me to.

He explained a few things along the way. What certain lights meant, depending on their color, and how the order when turning things on was important and why. Once I was up and online, I asked if there was some way I could give him an attaboy so he'd get credit for this. He'd spent quite a bit of time with me, when it was obviously not his job to do so. He said, "Oh, no, don't give me any credit. I could get in trouble. I'm not supposed to do this. I just wanted to help you after all the incompetence you'd encountered."

So Robert went out of his way for me, a complete stranger, when doing so wasn't even going to win him points at work. When doing so would get him grief, instead. A kindness done because he's obviously a good guy, yet no one will take his picture and post it on Facebook to be shared a thousand times.

People are good all the time, they just don't get the press.