TOD...
I can't remember what year it was, exactly. I do know I was living in Fullerton, Orange County, CA. I hadn't met der B yet. And it was Christmas.
The family was gathering at my parent's place, in Sonora, CA. I was going to take the train up to Modesto, which was as close as I could get, and Dad was going to pick me up and drive me in the rest of the way. My sister was driving westward from Oklahoma, where she was teaching college-level geography.
Or, at least, that was the plan.
Unfortunately, somewhere along the line, I think in Arizona, my sister managed to flip her car over on the highway. She totalled the car. Dad had to drive down and find her, and drive her the rest of the way to the homestead.
So, instead of Dad picking me up, the job was left to Mom. Grandma, who was living with my parents, would simply have to cope on her own for the few hours Mom was away. At that time, she was still healthy enough to cope pretty well.
The problem was, that particular Christmas was a stormy one. We got hit by rain, and I mean a constant downpour, the night Mom drove to Modesto to pick me up. And it's all country roads, dark and windy.
I'd packed light, fortunately, so it didn't take but a moment to move my bag into the car when Mom arrived at the train station. (Did I mention that I love trains? I love trains.) And we started the trek to the homestead in Sonora.
And the rain poured down.
And down.
And down some more.
And the roads were windey, and we couldn't see very well, and there were spots where we slowed down to ten MPH trying to see where the road was.
And that's a good thing, because all of a sudden Mom hit the brakes.
There was a cow in the middle of the road.
The cow was just standing there. I suppose she was trying to figure out what to do with all this rain coming down. She was caught in our headlights, and just stared at us.
We stared right back.
There really wasn't anything else we could do.
Honking at the cow wasn't going to change the situation. I've yet to encounter a cow that reacted to a honk from a car horn. Really, I haven't.
So we all waited a few minutes. The rain was really coming down, and Mom and I were kind of sorry for the cow, having to stand there in the pelting rain like she was. Not that we were going to invite her into the car, mind you.
Eventually, the rain let up a bit, and the cow decided to move on, out of our way. We drove past her, and never saw her again.
Now, wasn't that exciting!
Oh, Dad and my sister arrived at the homestead the next day. No cows in their story. She, of course, had to make her experience the more exciting and dramatic, and poo-pooed our tale as meaningless.
Grandma was just glad that we were all safe.
And, later, after we had all tired of my sister's tale of woe, she pulled me aside and said "That cow was sure lucky!"
The End.
