Floods, Lightning, and Other Calamities

Micky and I were going to kayak today in the Ichetucknee River. This is a wonderful gin-clear 72-degree river with some of the most idyllic southern scenery in the nation. Took the convertible and drove US27 into Branford, a funky little intersection that used to have signs at the entrance proclaiming them the "Cave Diving Capital of the World." Along the way, the road passes over the Ichetucknee. It was not the clear beauty with a white bottom we expected.
When the rivers here flood in the spring, the pressure of the high water reverses the flow of some of the springs that form the local rivers and force tannin-colored water into the Ichetucknee. I have encountered pockets of such water 1500 feet from the entrance of Peacock Springs while cave diving. At Branford there is a major spring feeding the Suwanee. It too was tea-colored. That cancelled our kayaking desires for this trip.
But not the shopping fever that occasionally swirls over Micky. She loves Bealls Outlets. she had me locate the nearest one on the GPS and promised that she only wanted one item and that it would be a "guy shopping trip".
Men enter a store, walk in a zombie trance to the exact location of their purchase, snag it, and walk purposefully to the cashier. Send a man to a store for a blue tie and he cannot tell you if they also sell red ties. We don't shop.
Women view the exercise differently. It is not a defined mission, but an activity. The mission is to see everything in the store that pertains to that category and all other related items. This drives most men loony. It has taken me years to submerge the testosterone-driven frustration enough to allow me to even enter a Bealls Outlet, Steinmart, or Ross with any woman. I am quite proud of my growth.
Shopping over and freshly provisioned from Winn-Dixie we also stopped at True Value and obtained new lynch pins for the tilt-bed of the car dolly.
After letting Don, the manager of the campground that we would not be kayaking, we started packing up intending to drive home immediately.
First came the thunder, then the vigorous and frequent lightning. I do not like lightning so close that there is no discernible gap between the stroke and the sound. Too close. And the rain was coming in sheets. So inside and stowing stuff we went.
I hooked up the GPS and attempted to start the coach. Lots of noise, but no engine run. And the GPS acted like it had no power also. I have to be careful with this Rochester carbureted 454 as it will flood easily. No, not easily, willfully. On the other hand, you do have to pump it once or twice after sitting. It would not start. I didn't smell excessive gasoline, so I started checking for ignition voltage and other electrical problems.
One thing that happens when a rainstorm comes through is that the density of the air changes as it saturates with water vapor. That increases the likelihood of flooding a sensitivie engine. After 45 minutes of truly impressive probing around with a Fluke 73 multimeter, the engine started right up. Not my fault!
I did learn that the GPS power plug had only 2 volts on it, so I need to trace the wiring back and find my hookups.
The upshot of all this commotion is that we will not leave here tonight. One of the big advantages of being among the "un-scheduled" is that we travel when ready. And tomorrow is a philosophical touchstone as well as a time cooordinate.