Originally Published August 16, 2010

I left work this evening a little before 6. The truck's thermometer usually reads a couple of degrees high after sitting in the parking lot all day and the 108 on the display was obviously a little above ambient. It was probably about 104.

I turned out onto Parmer Lane and could see more of the northeast hemisphere where the intensely sunny skies transitioned to dense, dark storm clouds. Within three minutes I had traveled no more than two miles from the office and the outside temperature had plummeted to 84 degrees and rain was breaking over the hood in waves. Two miles later the thermometer read 78 degrees and the now-waterlogged rush hour was down to a crawl.

By the time I covered the 7 miles to I-35 the storm had passed and only the lightest of sprinkles still reached the truck. Another 6 or 7 miles and I turned the corner onto our county road and turned the truck headlights off because no one in the area suspected there were storms in the vicinity. I noticed the thermometer was back up to 98 degrees.

So a 25 or 30 minute commute took me from an exaggerated 108 degrees to a stormy 78, back to a hot, sunny 98.

Yes, I survived an ancient weather cliche this evening, one of those timeless cliches based on real-life experience.

Originally Published August 16, 2010