I had another post planned for today, but seeing as the weather outside is good for nothing but ducks and farmers, I thought I would share a different story instead. Every year around this time, Ohio floods. The rivers and streams, swollen with snow melting and rain, tend to flood the banks, fill the fields and generally cause problems nearby, especially in rural areas. Fields flood after planting, bridges get washed out, normally placid rivers become angry, nasty and roaring.
As many of you know, I will take the scenic route over the direct route any day… and this particular day was no exception. My brother Jeff and I were headed to my grandparents’ house for the day. It was a pretty nice day, so we were cruising in my 79 Malibu with the radio blaring and windows down, enjoying life.
In the town where my grandparents’ live, there are remnants of the canal and locks that were used for the Miami and Erie Canal back in the 1800’s. This canal connected the Ohio River in Cincinnati to Lake Erie in Toledo and was used as a byway to ferry goods and people across the state before railroads.
History lesson over.
So, Jeff and I are cruising along and happen to drive over one of the bridges in a rural section of town. The water was literally a foot below the bottom of the bridge. (When I tell this story, I like to say Nana raised some idiots….) we pulled off just past the bridge and got out to look at the water. We walked to the swollen banks and checked it out. We walked into the center of the bridge on the road and stood for about 10 minutes watching the water rush by.
Jeff said, “Uh, sis, I think the water is rising.”
We ran for the car and peeled out of there. (Thank God for 350 cubic inch engines.)
About an hour later, Jeff and I were sitting at our grandparents’ house watching the noon news and eating a ham sandwich (isn’t it funny stuff you remember?)
A newscaster came on and said he was in Tipp City on location.
I looked at Jeff and he looked at me as the news reporter named the bridge we were standing on merely an hour ago.
The water had crested the bridge.
The bridge was flooded.
The water was estimated to be a foot above the very bridge we were on.
Right where we were standing an hour ago.
Jeff started laughing. I remember staring at him with ham and Wonder bread falling out of his mouth while he laughed.
Did I mention the bridge was flooded right where we standing an hour ago?!
We know better. We’ve grown up in this area. We know to not drive through flooded roads (heck, that’s ANOTHER story). We know not to investigate flooded river banks.
Definitely not one of our smarter moments.
Yep, Nana raised some idiots.