Citroen meets Cyclone

On Dad's first day, we gazed with beleaguered faces at the dark lagoon in front of our eyes. The storm was starting to be described as "a cyclone without the wind," and everyone in the media was giving the "end of the world" hype that I can't stand. This was the third day of heavy rain and it was not showing signs of letting up. But of course, we reasoned, Dad didn't come to the other side of the world to be intimidated by a little water, so off we went.

Our first stop was to St. Leu, a great town south of Saline. It was raining pretty hard, but we cozied up under a tarp at a local hangout, sitting outside, (mostly) sheltered from the downpour. Dad said it reminded him of his Central Africa days, all the fun in being together, not being in a rush or racing against the clock. We took our time before heading farther south still, driving a hitchhiker to her house, then battling the increasingly heavy rains to St. Pierre.

We stayed long enough for Dad to see the town and for me to realize that I had forgotten the picnic lunch I prepared. No matter! We chowed down at a little street side cafe before musing that the rain was really starting to pour. I lazily suggested we head back north towards home and Dad agreed.

Roads that were manageable an hour before had become unrecognizable. By the time we reached Etang Sale, there was massive flooding. Reunion Island is a cone-shaped land mass: the mountainous center slopes violently downward into the towns and beaches that line the coast. This means that all of the rain drains and collects at the foothills. We were toast. We came to our first area of major flooding where I was able to follow the crown of the road and pass through without a problem. Unfortunately these difficult passes were becoming more frequent along our coastal route; we were trapped between an angry and rising ocean on one side and massive mountain drainage from the other.

The breaking point occurred when we arrived at a bridge or "radier" that was completely flooded. Feeling that we would be damned to stay and let the water rise around us, I decided to gun it through some very high water. Flooding was up to the windows, water splashing over the windshield. My poor Citroen just couldn't handle all that inundation. She died right in the middle of the rapids. Lucky for us--and what probably saved our lives--was that at that exact moment a 4x4 truck came from behind and helped push us out of the danger zone. We were able to wait on higher ground for help to come.

Friends with a pick-up truck came an hour later--to "Save America!"--and towed the car back through heavy rain to a garage in La Saline. The mechanics there were able to get her started again, allowing us to believe she had avoided a worse fate. However, several days later, while making a steep climb into the hills near Plaine des Cafres, the motor exploded on us. Her last gasp for breath and then she was gone.

Between punctured tires, stolen hubcaps, and a drowned motor, this poor little car had a tough month. We did, however, learn some valuable lessons. The first is that when it rains on Reunion Island, it's probably best not to drive because the hype is not exaggerated. Secondly, never cross a flooded radier. And thirdly, if you decide to take your car for a swim, insurance will probably refuse to pay for it. Ergo facto, rigorously avoid these three points! Otherwise, Dad and I are alive, we are healthy, and we have some great stories for the grandkids, as hard as this loss and close call was for us.

R.I.P little Citroen