In West Texas you can see storms when they’re miles away. The sky becomes as black as Satan’s soul as it races toward you. It creates a sense of awe and fear at the same time, especially when you’re out on the road.

Today, we happened to be in a town when we saw one looming and decided it would be a good time to consider checking into a hotel rather than face a howling storm. In the backs of our minds we were remembering the last storm we tented through.

Unfortunately, even splitting a small-town hotel room three ways the cost was still out of our price range, so we went into the funeral home and asked to borrow the phone. We called the First Baptist Church and asked if they had showers, thinking maybe they’d let us sleep on a pew or something. 

No luck, and the pastor didn’t know of any church that did. Then we asked the funeral director, Larry Adams, if he knew of anyplace we could shower. After a minute’s thought he remembered an upstairs apartment at the funeral home. 

“But I wouldn’t let my dog sleep there,” he added. He didn’t realize how NOT picky we were, and we jumped at the chance. It was hot and cluttered, but we loved it because there were no hard pieces of ice falling on us, nor blinding lightning striking all around us. 

Larry came in four separate times trying to fix the air conditioner, and finally just brought us a fan. We spread our sleeping bags out and enjoyed a night out of the elements. With part of the money we saved by not staying in a hotel, we bought and ate an enormous dinner.