It really was no miracle. What happened was just this…the wind began to switch, the house, to pitch. And suddenly the hinges started to unhitch. Just then the Witch, to satisfy an itch, went flying on her broomstick, thumbing for a hitch!
Here in Louisiana, the weather outside is just as frightful as it once was for Dorothy and Toto. From my window, I can see the rain, the lightning and hear the thunder roll. What I can’t see is myself going anywhere in this; a dark and eerie sky threatening to unload golf ball sized hail at any moment. Tornado warnings pop up on my cell phone. The wind is coming in from the northwest which is the opposite direction it was blowing yesterday when I left the Lucky Longhorn.
Route 90 is as straight as Chuck Norris. Writing that, made me think of this one-liner. Ghosts sit around the campfire and tell Chuck Norris stories.
Rolling along, I was looking out into the thick wooded lands beside the roadway. I keep my eyes out for gators having already seen one. I’m in swamp land. The air feels like a warm muffin. I cross over a few bayous. They look really creepy. I’m sweaty.
I was approaching Lake Charles. The song Lucinda Williams sings about it is a lot more comforting than the look of the bridge up ahead. There’s two lanes of heavy traffic and it’s shoulder-less. Research tells me that it’s been listed by the National Bridge Inventory as structurally deficient with a rating of 3 and a sufficiency rating of 9.9 out of 100. Well isn’t that nice?
I leave Jo in his wagon and merge onto the Interstate 10, gearing down for the narrow climb. Eighteen wheelers are passing within feet of me. I’m hogging a lane and causing cars to back up for over a mile. I look over the rail to my right and it’s nearly 200 feet to the water below. The wind is gusting as I crest the backbone. There’s a metal threshold that covers a gap where I risk getting stuck. I need to stop and push the bike and wagon across. Jo’s small wheel fell through it as we rolled over it. With cars now at a standstill, I leaned my bike onto the railing and got behind us, tugging on the wagon to free the tire.
A mile further I found myself sitting on the edge of the lake looking back at the bridge. Shoeless Jo was feeling rather frisky. I let him off leash on the lush green grass. Jo went bonkers for a minute, running circles in the park, tearing the lawn up with his teeth.
The scenery changes on the Eastside of town. Jo and I meander past tall grassy fields where cows are quietly grazing. A few historic looking homes dot the roadside.
Welsh is nine miles up ahead. When we arrive I spot an old Cemetary and a Catholic Church but no where to stay.
Jennings is another ten miles. That would leave us with forty five to go to reach Lafayette the next day and about sixty miles in the saddle on this one. At seven o’clock, with the rain starting to come down again, I set my bike against the building at the Days Inn. There’s an all you can eat international buffet attached to the property. After getting settled in, grabbing a shower and tossing in a load of laundry, I sat down to feast.
Back in my room, I fell over on my bed, like Dorothy did in the movie. The lights weren’t out, but I was.
And, oh, what happened then was rich! The house began to pitch, the kitchen took a slich. It landed on the Wicked Witch in the middle of a ditch. Which was not a happy situation for the Wicked Witch!
Unusual weather we’re having, ain’t it? ~ Cowardly Lion.