When The Rain Comes

By morning the flood had all but disappeared, unveiling a trail of flotsam that led right to our door like some unwelcome guest. Because there is so little annual rainfall in the UAE, there's almost no drainage. So when it does rain, it floods. In fact the curb in front of our place floods when Makhboub hoses down the boat, which is every other day. Last night's rain came on suddenly. I was hunched over the computer straining to produce 1500 words on Argentine real estate when I heard the familiar tapping of cloudburst. I miss the dampening fall weather of Northern California but was slow to recognize the rain, as its sound was not only unexpected, but partially masked by the white noise of the air-conditioner.  When it dawned on me that one of Dubai's extremely rare rainfalls was upon us, I ran outside to collect our camping gear, which had been airing out on the porch. Then I put on dirty clothes from the laundry hamper (why soak the clean stuff, especially when you're running low) and ran to shut the windows on the rental car. 

I'd left the windows cracked open to allow some air flow. I don't know why but the Yaris smells really bad. We should have exchanged it ages ago for a fresher unit, preferably one with two working speakers. When you listen to certain Taj Mahal songs in this car, sometimes all you get is banjo, as Taj's honeyed voice is hard panned to the dead speaker. Despite being an occasional contributor to Wheels, I'm really not a huge car guy-- that's my Dad's job. Yet I will say that the stereo in our new car really makes a difference after driving the rental for several months, that and the keyless entry, I'm a big baby about manual locks.

Today I need to take the Yaris down to the police station to get a "no fault" write up for an accident that never happened, at least not to us. The law in Dubai prohibits any auto body work from being performed without a police report. So when Vanessa initially tried to return the rental yesterday, the agency inspector found a longish scratch running along the driver's side rocker panel. The thing is, we have no idea how it got there or if they just missed it in a previous inspection, it definitely doesn't appear to be a fresh scratch.

I'm going down to the police station to get the report, so that I can get permission from the rental agency to return a car that I no longer need and never wanted. After that we're supposed to go ice skating in honor of one (or two) of Vanessa's departing co-workers. I fully expect to repeatedly fall on my cold cold ass. Should be a fun day.