Hail
On August 3, we listened to the weather folks warn us of yet another thunderstorm (the computer voice of NOAA says to stay away from winDOWS). It was traveling north of us so we figured we were only getting fringes. But a piece of it apparently looked south, saw all the RVs at Hart Ranch and slobbering with greed, wound it self up and headed our way.
We heard the wind come up violently and the rain, and thunder and lightning, but except for the dog, remained calm.
BANG. BANG. What ? BANG, BANG. Hailstones as big as baseballs and softballs were coming down out of these nasty green clouds, bouncing 15-20 feet in the air. They weren’t as thick as smaller hailstones, didn’t cover the ground. They seemed to be about 10 feet apart as they came down. We were all terrified. It was probably about 5 minutes of the most appalling violence on our roof, a plague in Egypt, Thor or Zeus in an epic rage. Any intellectual understanding of the physics of a hail storm was flattened into a quivering howling panic. And I’m not talking about the dog. We expected them to come right through the roof and brain us, and began searching our consciences for what we might have done to offend who up there.
I was worrying about my Airstream, lonely off in the storage area, probably pulverized, and worrying about the cattle out on the hillside. I remember on one of my early trips to Wyoming that some old cowboy told me that if I was ever in a hail storm while I was riding, to get right off, take off the saddle, lie down and drag the saddle over my head. Innocent that I was, I probably said “what about the poor horse?” Now I know why. A hit on the head with one of these bombs would kill you.
Once it was over, everyone ran out to pick one up and hold it, just to be sure they really were that big. And some of us ( including me…) put some in the freezer, as if no one would ever believe us.
Damage to our rigs was minimal, the worst being the 5th wheel’s roof. It has 25 good dents in it and although it doesn’t leak, it will have to be replaced, fortunately by Don’s insurance. Neither of our trucks got more than a few extra dents, and the Airstream is completely unscathed. A miracle, although I think the big 5th wheel that it is parked right next to protected it pretty much.
Damage in the rest of the park was substantial. Worst hit were cars and truck, there are at least a hundred with smashed windshields or rear windows. A lot of RV’s have dents, broken roof fans, busted Acs and in some cases the very thing I envisioned: holes smashed right through the roof into the interior. We had 8 broken windows in buildings in the park, which kept us up late vacuuming up broken glass so people could go to sleep in the cabins. The windows just exploded inward, glass everywhere.
There are now flocks of insurance adjusters wandering around with clipboards, climbing up on top of RVs, while anxious owners worry how much they will get. There are several other Airstreams in the park, and two of them are new ones. One got at least one huge dent, and the other has, tragically, a lot of them and smashed solar panels too, perhaps to the point of being totaled. I don’t have that kind of insurance, since the premiums on the trailer would quickly add up to another vintage trailer. And the truck is a truck of considerable experience and shows it.
Now, except for more people up on RV roofs than normal, we are back to baking in the sun, 103 yesterday. We have broken several daily heat records, and for July, eleven days of 100 or more, and those of us who must work in it, especially outside, are wilting and getting grumpy and feeling sort of bleached out. I do prefer heat to cold, but this is ridiculous. I better get a desk job if this is the new summer. It is hard to watch the guests soaking in the pool while I am up on a roof changing out AC filters.
It is bike week here again, when thousands of motor cycles descend on the area to drink beer, reaffirm their wild thing image by dressing dangerously and thundering around the roads in gangs of chrome and black. There are rock concerts to go to, and one of them featured ZZ Top,( can they really be still playing ?) one of my favorites. It saddens me to realize that although I sort of want to, I am afraid I have outgrown putting on a scare-the-grown-ups outfit and making a spectacle of myself, dancing and drinking and generally showing off. Very sad thought. Sic transit gloria mundi. Good old Gloria, she was a wild one while she lasted.
In the paper, they listed all those killed in motorcycle accidents (4) and some of the seriously injured. This seems to me a relatively small number compared to the saturation of folks on bikes who have to drive like demented Roman drivers (no signals, too fast, with brio, and a short temper) as part of the role playing game they’re in. To my surprise, nearly all the accident victims listed in the article are in their 40’s and 50’s, not the young and restless you would think. Of course a new Harley or a big Honda will run you $30,000, and some of the custom choppers that look like something out of a comic book can cost up to $100,000. It would be amusing to somehow take down the license numbers of say 50 bikes, and run the plates and find out who they are. Are those tattoos temporary? Does the patch on the back of the cut off jean jacket say the name of a real bad bike club or does it say Greater Peoria Driving Dentists?
We suffered through a week of summer flu, first Don, then me. Sad belly, and for me a whopping back ache. I ended up in bed for 3 days, missed Don’s friends from Ireland, missed judging the artsy stuff for 4H at the Custer Co Fair with a good and funny lady, missed going to Sturgis to at least look upon the spectacle. All of which makes me feel very sorry for myself.
I have a new side business of repairing RV day/night shades. These are a pleated shade, opaque on the upper part, sheer on the bottom that are held in considerable tension by very thin nylon strings. The strings soon wear out and have to be replaced. The magic trick that the strings do inside involves criss-crossing through the 4 metal channels that separate the blind’s two materials and the top and bottom. Actually, figuring out how to replace the string is not all that bad, but getting the blinds out and then in again can be difficult and embarrassing. I’m supposed to be an expert, right? but there I am sprawled on their sofa with both hands up under the valance trying to feel how to get it down or up.( screws? Brackets ? where, what ?) And wrestling with getting the tension correct while needing three or four hands to hold two or three strings and screw the little holder into the wall. So far my customers have been deeply grateful, since new shades are very expensive and most of them would have no idea, much less the tools, how to put them up.
We heard the wind come up violently and the rain, and thunder and lightning, but except for the dog, remained calm.
BANG. BANG. What ? BANG, BANG. Hailstones as big as baseballs and softballs were coming down out of these nasty green clouds, bouncing 15-20 feet in the air. They weren’t as thick as smaller hailstones, didn’t cover the ground. They seemed to be about 10 feet apart as they came down. We were all terrified. It was probably about 5 minutes of the most appalling violence on our roof, a plague in Egypt, Thor or Zeus in an epic rage. Any intellectual understanding of the physics of a hail storm was flattened into a quivering howling panic. And I’m not talking about the dog. We expected them to come right through the roof and brain us, and began searching our consciences for what we might have done to offend who up there.
I was worrying about my Airstream, lonely off in the storage area, probably pulverized, and worrying about the cattle out on the hillside. I remember on one of my early trips to Wyoming that some old cowboy told me that if I was ever in a hail storm while I was riding, to get right off, take off the saddle, lie down and drag the saddle over my head. Innocent that I was, I probably said “what about the poor horse?” Now I know why. A hit on the head with one of these bombs would kill you.
Once it was over, everyone ran out to pick one up and hold it, just to be sure they really were that big. And some of us ( including me…) put some in the freezer, as if no one would ever believe us.
Damage to our rigs was minimal, the worst being the 5th wheel’s roof. It has 25 good dents in it and although it doesn’t leak, it will have to be replaced, fortunately by Don’s insurance. Neither of our trucks got more than a few extra dents, and the Airstream is completely unscathed. A miracle, although I think the big 5th wheel that it is parked right next to protected it pretty much.
Damage in the rest of the park was substantial. Worst hit were cars and truck, there are at least a hundred with smashed windshields or rear windows. A lot of RV’s have dents, broken roof fans, busted Acs and in some cases the very thing I envisioned: holes smashed right through the roof into the interior. We had 8 broken windows in buildings in the park, which kept us up late vacuuming up broken glass so people could go to sleep in the cabins. The windows just exploded inward, glass everywhere.
There are now flocks of insurance adjusters wandering around with clipboards, climbing up on top of RVs, while anxious owners worry how much they will get. There are several other Airstreams in the park, and two of them are new ones. One got at least one huge dent, and the other has, tragically, a lot of them and smashed solar panels too, perhaps to the point of being totaled. I don’t have that kind of insurance, since the premiums on the trailer would quickly add up to another vintage trailer. And the truck is a truck of considerable experience and shows it.
Now, except for more people up on RV roofs than normal, we are back to baking in the sun, 103 yesterday. We have broken several daily heat records, and for July, eleven days of 100 or more, and those of us who must work in it, especially outside, are wilting and getting grumpy and feeling sort of bleached out. I do prefer heat to cold, but this is ridiculous. I better get a desk job if this is the new summer. It is hard to watch the guests soaking in the pool while I am up on a roof changing out AC filters.
It is bike week here again, when thousands of motor cycles descend on the area to drink beer, reaffirm their wild thing image by dressing dangerously and thundering around the roads in gangs of chrome and black. There are rock concerts to go to, and one of them featured ZZ Top,( can they really be still playing ?) one of my favorites. It saddens me to realize that although I sort of want to, I am afraid I have outgrown putting on a scare-the-grown-ups outfit and making a spectacle of myself, dancing and drinking and generally showing off. Very sad thought. Sic transit gloria mundi. Good old Gloria, she was a wild one while she lasted.
In the paper, they listed all those killed in motorcycle accidents (4) and some of the seriously injured. This seems to me a relatively small number compared to the saturation of folks on bikes who have to drive like demented Roman drivers (no signals, too fast, with brio, and a short temper) as part of the role playing game they’re in. To my surprise, nearly all the accident victims listed in the article are in their 40’s and 50’s, not the young and restless you would think. Of course a new Harley or a big Honda will run you $30,000, and some of the custom choppers that look like something out of a comic book can cost up to $100,000. It would be amusing to somehow take down the license numbers of say 50 bikes, and run the plates and find out who they are. Are those tattoos temporary? Does the patch on the back of the cut off jean jacket say the name of a real bad bike club or does it say Greater Peoria Driving Dentists?
We suffered through a week of summer flu, first Don, then me. Sad belly, and for me a whopping back ache. I ended up in bed for 3 days, missed Don’s friends from Ireland, missed judging the artsy stuff for 4H at the Custer Co Fair with a good and funny lady, missed going to Sturgis to at least look upon the spectacle. All of which makes me feel very sorry for myself.
I have a new side business of repairing RV day/night shades. These are a pleated shade, opaque on the upper part, sheer on the bottom that are held in considerable tension by very thin nylon strings. The strings soon wear out and have to be replaced. The magic trick that the strings do inside involves criss-crossing through the 4 metal channels that separate the blind’s two materials and the top and bottom. Actually, figuring out how to replace the string is not all that bad, but getting the blinds out and then in again can be difficult and embarrassing. I’m supposed to be an expert, right? but there I am sprawled on their sofa with both hands up under the valance trying to feel how to get it down or up.( screws? Brackets ? where, what ?) And wrestling with getting the tension correct while needing three or four hands to hold two or three strings and screw the little holder into the wall. So far my customers have been deeply grateful, since new shades are very expensive and most of them would have no idea, much less the tools, how to put them up.
posted by Thistledown24 at 7:49 PM
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