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.