Sunset triptych

Three times last night I drove a vehicle - first, a personal car, then a jeep and finally a school bus full of students - out on a coastal road to see the sunset.  And all three times the road was washed out at the last minute.

I came around the same corner, nearing the same break in the trees, through which we could see the same glorious pink and orange sky breaking over the ocean horizon and each time it was a beautiful surprise.  And each time, right before we achieved the perfect viewpoint, I was suddenly up to my axles in water.

All around me, cars floundered in the rapidly rising water.  Each time the anxiety was palpable; we held our communal breath till everyone had managed to turn and retreat back down the road.

The worst and best was the bus, because it commanded such a good view.  The tall tires gave us more protection from the water, so I wasn't worried we would stall out.  But I and all the passengers in the bus could see other cars in precisely that predicament and so we worried collectively that we might not all make it.

Also the bus had such a huge turning radius, the reorientation was agonizingly slow.  It was like trying to steer an elephant in quicksand.  I knew I would make it and yet I was rigid with tension as we maneuvered the bus through the water and around other cars, and so relieved when we all finally began heading back the way we had come.