A Hurricane Story From The Space Coast

Terry's slant on the hurricane.
All the smart people ran for the hills. That means only the dumb ones were left, and here is my story.

I stayed to 'experience' the hurricane. Wind, driving rain, leaning into the wind, riding a bike with the 50 MPH wind, all sounded good to me and quite mature. I tried to get Teresa to go with her daughter to Tampa, but she wouldn't do it. She wanted to 'stand by her man' (but I bet she will be running from that fool next time). One of the goals in her life is to keep me safe, why? I don't know. I had a sneaking suspicion that she was going to try and ruin my hurricane celebration.

I boarded the places up pretty well. That was BEFORE I got survival supplies; cases of beer, two quarts of rum and mixer. I put the .357 mag in the middle of the supplies in case someone wanted to cause trouble or have some fun at target practice on empty rum bottles later. Oh yeah, I got flashlights, batteries and water as an afterthought.

I strapped my dock furniture to the pilings so that it would not blow away. Little did I realize that the decking would be destroyed and the furniture would be dangling from the poles, flapping like a flag in the wind. I found the furniture in pieces on the shore about 100 yards north, along with the remaining parts of the dock. My neighbor's jet ski was there also. It seems that I had won the bet on whether the ski would stay on his dock or get blown away. Score one for me. He was so stupid for leaving. He could have stayed and watched the ski get torn apart.

I got the generator out and put gas in it, along with duct tape, the compressor and nail gun. Ready to rock. The first 24 hours were easy, just 50-60 MPH winds out of the northeast that were moving the plywood on the windows about an inch. That just required a wide eyed glance every so often (when Teresa wasn't looking 'cause I didn't want to scare her, I had enough fear to go around). Then it was 12 hours of 85-105 MPH winds, 'move to the back of the house'.

It seems that several people in the area had purchased 40 foot sail boats that were somehow a cross between a water and terrestrial source of joy, for after the boats pulled themselves free of their tie downs, they wound up resting on the rocks in unusual positions. Someone's dock was flying by and temporarily blocked my view of the hurricane's fury. Luckily one of the sailboats stopped the wayward dock's progress up river.

Normally, where I live the river is 4 feet deep at the seawall and the seawall is 4 feet high. The waves were now a mere 6 feet above the seawall. These waves were the source of several noteworthy events. First the salt water would hit the seawall and go vertical for 20 feet, then caught by the wind, they would travel horizontal for 100 feet. Waves make a strange sound when they are passing by at 100 MPH. Twelve hours of 10 foot waves have done me a great service. I wanted a swimming pool that looked out over the intercoastal. Now, thanks to Frances, I have the 30X8X3 beginnings of an in-ground pool. My house looks OK covered in seaweed, not too bad, newest trend in design.

I used a nail gun with case hardened nails to attach the plywood to the block house. Worked great, went real quick and was strong, what a smart guy. So strong that one of the cement blocks broke under the pressure of the wind. So there was this two inch gap between the plywood and the house and the wind was howling in. I had to fix this before the plywood let the whole of the eastern hemisphere's air supply into my little house. There is a substance called Great Stuff that is basically a spray foam insulation that dries quickly and is very sticky when released from the container. I knew this, everyone knows this, I thought. With my great intellect going for me and all the hurricane experience I had, it should be a snap to seal this wind tunnel. I pointed the nozzle at the opening and let her go. It was immediately caught by the wind and deposited back in my face, on the curtains, floor and furniture. Not one speck stayed on the plywood or block. Get me a smarter idea, I demanded. So out the door I went, got a ladder and tried to stand on it, hold the wall, screw a top plate on the plywood and maintain my balance at the same time with a 50 MPH wind. I looked like I was doing it to a football, but my mission was successful. I attached the top plate and had Teresa spray the foam into the crevasse from the inside. She, being unaccustomed to the foam, saw that the foam was not sticking well enough and she used her hands to shove the foam into place. When I got back into the house, her fingers were stuck together like a pancake and she was yelling that her hands were welded shut. 'Try some finger nail polish remover', says I, since there always seems to be gallons of that available and never anything useful like turpentine. She made the critical error of grabbing cotton balls to drench with remover just like she does with her normal three times daily finger nail polish removal routine. Her hands looked like white bunny mittens. "Sic semper tyrannis".

I managed to sneak out of the house to look at the storm several times. Very interesting, trees broken wind driven rain, my shed lifting off the ground and landing high on a telephone pole. Some of the stuff in the shed was sitting neatly on the base, other treasures, like coolers, ironing boards, pictures of landscapes, fake flowers, etc, were strewn up to the road, where the crack ho's thought it was Christmas. They can't take off for the hurricane.

Each time I was gone for over 3ms, I heard the call of 'don't leave me here alone'. How can I be macho if the little woman keeps me on such a tight leash? I need some more of the survival supplies. One bottle of rum gone, can't make it much longer.

Which somehow reminds me of the drunk guy three doors down that came to visit during the storm. Obviously, he had too much time to prepare and bought too many survival supplies. He was going to save everyone because he could "carry 15 people on his back and swim across the river while holding his breath". Sure buddy, only I can do that. That's what cheap booze will do to you. You will brave 80 MPH hurricane winds to talk to someone you don't know and brag about your male prowess (I'm talking about me, not that other loooooser). This storm is lasting way too long.

The time was 6:30 AM. After 26 hours, it happened. A large black object appeared across the rear window and simultaneously a ferocious sound was heard. The roof to the office had finally succumbed to the inevitable. Howling wind and sheets of rain were pouring into the small office that contained my life's work, which was nothing of value really. The rain started on its destructive course. The ceiling fell in at 7:00 AM very near my head. I had been trying to broom the water out the front door, no good I thought, since the water level was rising instead of falling. More bad news from Teresa. Water in the living room! I made a set of river banks out of blankets to direct the living room torrents to the office where those waters would be rejoined to continue their journey to the carport. Water was streaming out of the living room ceiling fan. I was beaten, I admit to giving up, no wait just a dog gone minute, I don't give up. I got all the files and furniture out of the office and piled it up in the kitchen. I piled the living room up on one couch and used several pairs of Teresa's shoes to prop up the one couch that was touching the floor. Now to deal with this small water problem, open the door and let it flow through the blanket river.

More falling sheetrock at 1:30 AM. The storm had lessened and was a mere 30 mph with rain. The crash in the office got me out of bed. I backed the truck up to the door and started tearing sheetrock out of the house. I was not going to let the storm have the pleasure of destroying my house, I would do it first. Luckily there was no one around to hear the vulgarity that I was screaming. Then calm came over me as I thought about how I had denied the storm the glory of house destruction, but then I thought 'how will the insurance guys view my actions?'.