For the Sake of the Children!
Living in Arizona and Southern California for the past 30 years, I can count on one hand the number of times I needed to be aware of a low water or flooded crossing. But growing up in Texas, this seemed to be something I always needed to be aware of. Flash floods could come out of nowhere, and as a new driver, having awareness of where these crossings were and how quickly they could become flooded was essential. Especially when driving at night to your sports practice. In Texas, everyone knows someone who was somewhere and got caught in exactly this situation.
Most Texans - and other drivers in flood zones - know and abide by the “Turn Around, Don’t Drown” rule when they encounter such a crossing.
But, this story isn’t about Arizona or Southern California, or even Texas. It’s about Louisiana.
Many years ago, at a club volleyball tournament in New Orleans, our team was traveling by van to the playing venue. A teammates parents were driving us in their fancy 1980’s conversion van, you know the kind with captain chairs and a sleeper sofa in the back? I guess in today’s economy, it would rival a fully renovated Sprinter van multiple tv’s, a fridge, bathroom and good wifi.
Not sure how it’s done these days, but back in 1988, we didn’t typically stay within walking distance to our gym. We stayed at a hotel (or motel - we love a good Red Roof Inn) that was a distance away from our playing site for the day. On this late Spring day, outside the city of New Orleans, we woke up to a downpour. Some of the different age divisions had early matches and had already left for the day, our team had a later start which put our departure time somewhere around 10:00 am. It was late enough for the rainfall to have created a significant impact on the roads of a city below sea level.
We left and hoped for the best. Without cell phones, our parent drivers coordinated the caravan by walkie-talkie. When I say those were the good old days, they really were.
The rain was already making it difficult for us to arrive on time, but nobody thought it would pose that much of a problem …
… until we encountered the flooded highway.
Various sedans dappled the stretch of flooded highway between us and our next opponent, giving all the evidence we needed for their failed attempts at the crossing. People stared at their vehicles from the side of the road, defeated and soggy from the rain. As we approached the mouth of the flooded area, our fearless driver announced:
“I think we can make it.”
His wife, less than enthusiastic, told him to walkie the other vans to let them know it was of no use, we’d have to go another way. But, thought Larry quietly, we aren’t in a sedan, and the van conversion is higher.
His silence worried her.
She seemed to have a sixth sense about this version of her husband. Silence means calculations. Calculations leads to nodding to himself. Nodding to himself leads to … Confidence.
“Please, Larry, think of the children.” She said trying to say calm. But confidence and, something that looked like resolve formed on the face of our driver.
“Mary Ann,” he said firmly “A man’t gotta do what a man’s gotta do!” and steeled himself for takeoff.
“NO! LARRY! For the sake of the children!” She shouted on last time as we began our high water crossing across the murky flooded stretch of Louisiana highway.
We made it to our venue that day. I have no recollection if we won or not, but in a van full of 14 year-olds, Larry - former AirForce - knew exactly how much water was on the road that day, how high his vehicle was and whether or not there was a real or imminent threat. He knew what most men know, when it ‘s time to do what needs done, you do it.
DISCLAIMER: Because it’s the internet and because people believe what they read here is advice, I will emphacize that crossing a flooded area is never a good idea. Growing up in Austin, Texas, where there are plenty of creek beds that flood at the first few drops of rain, we know the saying well, “turn around, don’t drown.” I’ve told time and time again and wanted to share - because we’ve all been in a van for a sports trip. Those memories stick with you forever. We had some great families and parents on that team and none of them would willingly drive us into the face of danger - especially Larry*. I was once in Larry’s van when a tire blew out at 70 mph on a stretch of Texas highway; he said “I think we just blew a tire” and then he handled the situation like a pro, changed the tire himself and had us back on the road before anyone could walkie “y’all good?”
*name changed for privacy.
