Three days ago I was heading north with the car top down and singing at the top of my lungs to Brave & Crazy. Great driving music. To my left sunny skies, to my right fluffy white clouds heading Northeast. Directly ahead, just to the northwest of I-5 a ring of black angry clouds, with a sheath of grey rain hanigng above the earth. A tight little storm moving ever so slowly. The kind you see in scary weather movies.
I estimated and guesstimated and determined I would just clear it. A few sprinkels. Possibly strong winds. I guessed wrong, much to my glee! I drove right thru that storm! Lightening cracked! I ducked instinctively as the thunder rolled over me. And whoosh, it poured. Drenched. Singing. It was thriling, and scary and certainly from the point of view of the other drivers on the road, insane! And I loved it! I broke thru to the otherside of the storm into full sunshine. Soaked thru and thru. It took 30 minutes to dry gong about 85 miles an hour. I highly recommend this – at least once in your life. Preferably in a rental car for you conservatives out there.
Driving back south yesterday – counting the rainbows as I sped by. A delightful double rainbow appeared over Berkeley. Two beautiful arcs. One nearly complete – just the top buried in the clouds and the other, dancing just to the right. Imagining pots of gold and what it would be like if you were standing behind or underneath the end of a rainbow – when someone else took a photo. I picture wearing a white dress and being drenched in fizzy hues of pink, orange, yellow, and purple. Yes, I comprehend that a rainbow is temporary. I understand it is made of light. And yet, I swivel my head back and forth, estimating where it starts and where it ends, and how much time it would take to drive to where it is pouring into the earth. I want to lie underneath the end of the rainbow. I want to feel light and colorful and powerful.