HAILSTORM
Lessons from under a trailer
I was in the middle of a hail storm. Lying face down in the gutter. Taking shelter under a trailer.
And you know what? I’d never been happier.
Because I live in a land of padded corners and warning labels, where every risk is mitigated, every danger neutered, every experience sanitised for our protection. The nanny state has succeeded in creating a population that mistakes safety for living.
Let me tell you the story
Yesterday, I was in Brisbane’s western suburbs. Tropical, leafy, green.
I was sitting on the porch of a 60’s bungalow on an acre block drinking tea, contemplating an afternoon walk.
Mid-tea I heard thunder. The skies were darkening to that ominous charcoal that only Queensland skies can.
I knew I had to go for my walk NOW, or I would miss the opportunity. I double-checked the Weather App. The storm looked intense, but a fair bit to the south. It looked like it’d miss us.
Me and my wife lace up and we’re out the door.
When we’re in Queensland we walk this 3km loop.
We start walking and we’re chatting and we’re on holiday so the vibes are high and we’re laughing and it’s hot and we’re having a good time.
We get lost in conversation for a bit but then out of the corner of my eye I see lightning bolts and cracks of thunder… is the sky turning slightly green?
A problem, sure. But I’m not going to let the threat of lightning and hail ruin a good walk. I’m not a bitch, you know?
Anyway, as we hit the halfway point of this loop (being the actual furthest point from my parents house), shit got kinda real.
Massive bolts of lightning shoot down from the heavens, followed closely by thunderous CRACKS. Wind tore the trees, ripping their limbs. Thick, heavy rain. That tropical rain that’s warm as blood came in walls
This is getting kinda hectic now…
“Can you run?” I ask my wife.
“Yes,” she nods back at me.
We run. Branches crack and fall. Lightning strikes closer - first two hundred metres away, then one hundred, then fifty. The thunder no longer follows the flash; they arrive together, a sensory assault that makes your teeth vibrate.
We’re laughing. Panting. Soaked completely. The fear is there but it’s intoxicating rather than paralysing. This is what being PRESENT feels like.
We pass houses. People scramble to move cars, stand on verandahs watching the sky with that particular suburban fear - the fear of property damage, of inconvenience. They’re spectators. We’re participants.
We get to the top of my parents’ street. Maybe 300m from home.
SUDDENLY.
The sound arrives before comprehension - THWACK. CRACK. Then a mechanical drumming, thousands of impacts accelerating into a roar.
“OMG, what’s that sound?” my wife shouts over the noise
She has no idea
But I do. I grew up here. And I saw the warning in that ominous green sky.
That’s hail and it’s coming towards us and we’re exposed.
I think fast (because of course I do).
My brain shifts into that heightened state where time dilates and options crystallise.
Twenty metres to our left: a trailer. Dark blue, weathered, the kind used for hauling junk to the tip. Open-topped. Just large enough.
“Under it. Now.”
We throw ourselves beneath it. The bitumen still holds the day’s heat against our bodies. Above us, the storm detonates.
Golf ball-sized hail hammers the trailer above us. Each impact a gunshot. The metal shrieks. If we’d been thirty seconds slower, these would be hitting our heads, our backs, drawing blood.
You’d think we’d be scared or she might be angry for me taking her out but that’s not the case coz we’re not losers. We were just laughing maniacally at how ridiculous it was and it was the first time I felt alive in so long. Like so long. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt EXCITEMENT like that. Not since I was a teenager, surely.
And I realised that’s coz I took a risk. Sure, it was a small risk in the scheme of things. But I took it. And I felt alive. Because I had to think fast and fend for myself and it was fun.
And I realise that you can only kind of feel alive if you take risks. Life is all about risks and without risks there is no life, I don’t think.
RISK is the precondition to LIFE
And I’d rather feel alive under a trailer dodging golf ball-sized hail than feel nothing at all in my air-conditioned, safety-certified, government-approved tomb.
Reminder - My Book is Out Now.
I want to quickly tell you that my book is available for purchase in hard cover and paperback.
It is called Life in the People’s Republic of Victoria, I am very happy with how this book turned out. It is beautifully printed with high quality materials. I took extra time with the design of this one, and I’m glad I did. There are also some fun surprises inside (but I won’t ruin those).