Back to Basic(s) II

As the temperatures increased, so did the severe weather patterns.  San Antonio has always had a propensity for heavy rains, but tornadic activity was not as common in South Texas as it was is West & North Texas.  Like clockwork, the squalls would suddenly appear in far West Texas, and—depending upon what the weather was doing in Colorado—move across North Texas or head right for The Alamo City.  

Screen shot souvenir tells the tale of a rough night in the single-wide

Kristy and I have never lived in a trailer, mobile home, or any other structure that was not initially bolted to the ground when it was built.  We have seen some really nice mobile/trailer homes, but we have also seen some really tragic photos of tornadoes obliterating trailer parks.  Every night during stormy weather we would keep our weather radio next to the bed, and every night it would sound its rude alarm when we were in perfect REM sleep.  This would initiate a Three Stooges-type awaking; with me trying to fumble for the iPad to check the local radar for signs of imminent “death-clouds” vortexing overhead, while Kristy fought to get two shaking dogs off her head. The Hounds had apparently associated NOAA weather radio alerts with “bad news”, and ranked them high on the “UOSS” (Uh-Oh Severity Scale).  Unfortunately, my world view looks frightenly similar to someone participating in the “dizzy bat competition” when I’m not adequately caffeinated.  Regardless, it was important for us to do this in a hurry, as weather lore had shown us that sometimes you only have a few minutes to get your act together should dangerous weather present.  

On two occasions spanning three days, we left the confines of our single-wide adventure shack and headed to the Wilford Hall parking garage to ride out the possible 70-MPH wind gusts and quarter-sized hail.  After a few days of pulling “pseudo all-nighters," we were mentally exhausted.  Then came a break in the weather pattern.  Dry air abounds all around!  The local weather forecasters were high-fiving themselves for the outstanding weather that “they” were responsible for bringing.  We slept like log corpses.  The air was cool and the humidity low.  We slumbered with open windows and a light breeze trailing across our pillows…

…OH DEAR GOD!!! I’M BACK IN BASIC TRAINING!!!

I quickly sprung into my Three Stooges posture—tripping over the dogs as they barked at the unexpected awakening—and hurriedly dressed as I made my way down those “back breaking steps” to the door.  I opened the door to see a multitude of blue and red disco lights dancing across all of the RVs at our end of the park.  An Air Force Security Policeman relayed in a very excitable voice:

"YOU NEED TO LEAVE NOW!!!  WE ARE EVACUATING THE CAMPGROUND!!! THE RV NEXT TO YOU IS ON FIRE AND THE PROPANE TANKS MIGHT EXPLODE!!! GET OUT NOW!!!"

The "inside voice" began to develop a dialogue to reason with this individual who had so rudely interrupted my sleep.  
"Ha. A ha ha. A ha ha ha ha.  Really?  You expect me to get my wife and two hounds out of this trailer now?  At this hour?  My good man, you must realize that we have a few minor items to pack before we could possibly leave...not to mention that neither of us looks presentable enough to show ourselves amongst our RV neighbors.  Give is 10-minutes, OK?”

Luckily the "outside voice" had been in big trouble before and simply said, “Ok.”

We threw on a enough clothing items to keep us from being arrested and embarrassed, grabbed the dogs by the collars (no coffee = no leash), and scurried across the road a to an approved safe viewing area.  I now completely understand how people die running back into burning buildings to save their stuff.  While the neighbors trailer shot out flames, I kept thinking about how much insurance we had on Glory; and if it was possible for me to sneak back in and get my wallet.

The Lackland Fire Department was setting up, and soon they began to pump water onto the 26-foot pull-behind trailer parked 8-feet away from our trailer.  The front of the trailer was on fire, as the battery cables had shorted and caused a small flame.  The plastic battery cover fueled the fire, as plastic melted and "dripped fire” onto the propane tank hoses below.  The propane tank—mounted inches away from the battery on the trailer tongue—had the supply lines burned in half by the melting plastic, and became a modified flame-thrower.  This is what the Fire Department encountered when they arrived; and this is why the security policeman seemed very excitable in his conversation with me.

All the ingredients for a really bad outcome

Make-shift flame-thrower with twin 30-lb tanks

I would like to say that after the fire was extinguished, we all went back to sleep…but that would be a lie.  We had so much adrenaline in our systems that we had to drink some coffee to dilute the on-going rush and calm down.  The hero of the day was a readiness instructor who was driving into work in the pre-dawn hours and noticed the small flame.  He had enough concern to call the base EMS folks, and make sure nothing bad happened.  Didn’t get his name, but I owe him a beer of his choosing upon demand…anywhere on the planet.

wWw