This is the scene that would welcome me if I stepped out of the house now - almost 2 feet of brown, murky water floating with wooden debris. How do I know? Coz I waded through 2 feet or brown, murky water while returning home. But that's not the best part! The real kick in the balls is that my car died 500 meters away!
I'm surprisingly upbeat about this, I know. But we always see pictures of poor people's car half-submerged in floods and we go, "Ouch!" Now I know how that feels. Yes, it sucked but the adrenaline rush kinda toned down the suckiness factor.
To the car's credit, Dad and I both think it cut itself off before permanent damage was done. We didn't suspect it would be so deep in that area where we passed (a shortcut we usually took) but we just kept going down and down until a big red STOP appeared on the information panel and the car rolled into a frightening halt in the middle of the lonely road.
Dad didn't dare restart the car and we sat for a minute processing the situation. I was very clear on what we had to do - we had to push the car to higher ground and hope for the best.
I rolled up my jeans (it got wet anyway) and stepped out onto the brown, murky water I'd get so accustomed to. The water didn't get into the exhaust, so there must be a sensor in the engine to cut the vital parts off. From there, we pushed the car about 50 meters (it was a long 50 meters, trust me). Talk about a late night workout!
We put the car under a lone street lamp, locked the car, and walked home in the rain. Now all we can do is hope that the car killed the engine, and not the water. Tomorrow morning we will go check on the car again and hope for the best. There are only 2 ways this could go - we drive it home or we call a tow truck. Hmmm....
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