Struck By Lightning

The U.S. Weather network says the odds of being hit by lightning in a given year are one in 700,000. Well, my sweetie and I beat those odds. The story goes that early one morning, while settling in at the cottage for a day to watch the fury of the storm that had been waging for hours, I made the comment on how perfect it was going to see the storm now that it was light when…Kaboom! The cottage was hit. The force of the lightning shook the foundation and the deafening noise shook our calm. As we entered the smoke filled kitchen, my sweetie quickly cut the power to the cottage and I stepped into high gear to collect the valuables in case a fire broke out. Computer, purse, kitty cats and oh yes, my man! For weeks and weeks this hot, humid Ontario summer I had been wishing for a storm. What was I thinking? That wondrous rumble of the thunder, the pounding of the rain on a tin roof, the sheer power of a storm and the release from the sweltering heat is all well and good. I DIDN’T MEAN THIS CLOSE. Respect was born on that fateful day and I have learned to ‘Be careful what I wish for.’ Fortunately, the cottage was only wounded. The car, 30 ft. away however, was not so lucky. The billowing of the grey smoke from under the hood was an indication of the flames. Was it an arc from the lightning bolt or was it a fireball that started the fire? We may never know but braving the storm, we succeeded in putting the fire out but to no avail. The Impala was gone, here one minute, gone the next. A requiem will be held in its memory next week. The time is early morning, it’s death hour, and the place is the wrecking yard. The story isn’t finished. It wasn’t only the cottage and the car that had no idea what struck them but also Nellie, our 1985 Ford pickup had no idea how it was going to change her life.. She hasn’t had this much exercise in years. It’s hard on an old girl. She has been on holidays since her farming escapades in the spring and now suddenly called into overtime service. It is hardly fair, but once again Nellie rises to the challenge. She and I have been running the roads and even in her rusted exterior, she has met a younger, ‘working’ pick up. His name is King. This has lifted Nellie’s spirits and she is proud of the two offers that I have had from admirers to buy her. Never, Nellie, never.