The thunder woke me up, Quinn was gone from the foot of the bed.  For a
few seconds I lay there wondering how far off the storm was then I
remembered:  the car was open.  The bike was on it.  Papers and
magazines were on the table outside.  I remembered looking at the Times'
forecast, no rain until Friday.  Heh.

Retrieved the stuff from the deck and dashed outside, ooops, forgot the
car keys.  Lightning all over the place and rain has started.  Power the
windows up.  Unbungie the bike but it's stuck, can't find where a damned
bungie has grabbed it, more lightning and I run the bike into the garage
... but stand there unable to imagine the dash back to the house, the
lightning is coming so fast.  Sit in the back of the Imperial.  It's
been awhile since I've seen such a fierce storm.  

I moved to the Lightning Capital of the World in 1981 and got well used
to it  --knocked to the ground twice when I thought I was an innocent
bystander.  When I moved to the top of a Poconos ridge in 1996 I was
surprised to experience storms that put more fear into me than Florida's
did.  Later I did some research and found that storm severity was
independent of storm frequency, commonality of conditions that give rise
to storms like in Florida not withstanding.  Ground resistivity is the
reason, the resistance of the ground to absorb lightning strikes, if I
may, is why storms over the Appalachians are so severe - mercifully not
so often.  I mean, I want to push the cats out and crawl under the bed
myself.

Quinn.  Poor guy.  Though he was born feral in Tampa and is fearless in
most situations, for some reason he has grown more scared of thunder.
And his daddy has abandoned him.  The lightning illuminations are so
frequent.  Often they're continuous and I can't count five seconds
before another.  Each time I want to make a break for it a particularly
strong strike says, "Oh no you don't".  Why did I build the garage so
far from the house anyway?  Eventually I realize that when lightning
hits the house I'm going to have to go for help nekkid.  The cats.
Quinn.  Open the garage door and wait for a break.  Go!  Once inside the
storm seems to disappear.  Loos is on the scanner waiting for snacks.
Willie is by the cat door looking out.  Quinn?  Yep.  Under the bed?  I
fall into bed and turn TWC on.  Quinn comes out and jumps on the bed by
me, with nervous glances back at the window.  Pike county is the onliest
region in the NorthEast under severe storm alert.  Thanks much.

--
Hobbes:  Do you think there's a God?
Calvin:  Well, SOMEbody's out to get me.