He had his car waiting at the foot of the drive, and just as I got in we heard it thunder.
"How far is it to your mother's?"
"Twelve miles."
"It's going to rain."
"Rain or not, I'm not going back, Roger," I said. "Imagine Bill's getting that letter for nothing."
He got into the car and it began to rain at once. Everyone knows about that storm now. We had gone about four miles when the sky fairly opened. The water beat in under the top and washed about our feet. We drove up to the hubs in water, and the lights, instead of showing us the way, only lit up a wall of water ahead. It was like riding into Niagara Falls. We were pretty sick, I can tell you.
"Why didn't you look at the sky?" I yelled at Roger, above the beating of the storm. "Bill can always tell when it's going to storm."
"Oh, damn Bill!" said Roger, and the car slid off the road and into a gully. Roger just sat still and clutched the wheel.
"Aren't you going to do something?" I snapped. "I'm not going to sit here all night and be drowned."
"Is there anything you could suggest?"