Well, that was exciting.
I arrived home at eight tonight and pulled into my driveway, as I do. It was raining, so I got ready to make a run for the house. I grabbed my bag, opened the driver’s door, put one foot out, and heard a loud bang. Followed by many other loud bangs.
Fireworks? I wondered. No. A transformer blew about five houses down the street from mine, on my side of the street.
It wasn’t happy enough to go off with a pop.
It crackled and sizzled and fizzed in all the colours of the rainbow, the sparks traveling up the wires to RIGHT BEHIND MY FRIGGIN’ CAR where I had, by then retreated with both feet, up and down and up and down for about a full minute before it finally fizzled out.
To say I was terrified and fascinated in equal measures is, well, pretty much the truth.
The extravaganza stopped at the transformer outside my house, so we have power. All my neighbours down the street aren’t so lucky.
I’ve seen a transformer blow before, but this was just … spectacularly horrifying!
I just wish I’d had the presence of mind to take a picture instead of sitting there peeing myself, wondering if I was going to make it the twenty feet to my front door.
Without being fried.
*doesn’t insert copyrighted image of Wile E. Coyote electrocuting himself