Mountain Musings


Don’t Let The Rain Come Down


You may not believe this but I almost always tell the truth and this time I really am. The other day, I was getting my car washed at a local car wash, which will remain nameless, because it may be embarrassing because what happened to me was either their fault or my own. So, before I recount my sad and soggy tale of woe, you may ask, “What did happen?”


OK, here we go. I drove the Mottmobile to this unidentified car wash to rid all the muck and mire remaining from the last series of winter storms. Now that the roads are mostly dry and devoid of snow and ice, I decided to get the car clean. Upon entering the tunnel, there was a blast of water raining down upon my vehicle to get rid of the top layer of mud and goo when, all of a sudden…the suspense is mounting…I began to notice a few drops of…you guessed it…water, cold, chilly water seeping from the ceiling of my vehicle.


At first, I shrugged it off as some sort of anomaly, but then the drops turned into a small stream, which in turn morphed into a cascade of cold, chilly H2O inundating first, my scalp, then the back of my neck, my shoulders, shirt and pants. At this point, I began taking it seriously.


There was not much I could do, since I was strapped into the seat and wasn’t about to go anywhere until the car was finally washed and dried, so I reached above me and tried to shut the sunroof, but it wouldn’t budge, and I wasn’t about to open it and unleash a raging torrent.


“Oh. no, don’t let the rain come down, oh, no, don’t let the rain come down, oh ,no, don’t let the rain come down, my roof’s got a hole in it, and I might drown. Oh, yes, my roof’s got a hole in it and I might drown.” (“Don’t Let The Rain Come Down” – The Serendipity Singers – 1969)


As my car emerged from the tunnel, I stopped at a pump to grab some paper towels to sop up all the wetness that had inundated my dashboard and leather upholstery, then myself. In the end, I figured either my wife hadn’t completely closed the sunroof or the blast of water and hot air inside the tunnel had forced the sunroof partially open.


Rest assured, as this crooked little man sauntered home to his crooked house, he had the car’s heater blasting at full throttle.


“There was a crooked little man and he had a crooked smile, had a crooked sixpence and he walked a crooked mile, had a crooked cat and he had a crooked mouse. They all lived together in a crooked little house. Oh, yes my roof’s got a hole in it and I might drown.”


Keep it flyin’ Uncle Mott