Rainy conditions can turn a routine drive into a nerve-wracking experience, and I've had my fair share of white-knuckle moments on slick roads. One of the most crucial things I've learned is to slow down—way down. It sounds obvious, but so many people forget that hydroplaning can happen at speeds as low as 35 mph, especially if your tires are worn. I made that mistake once, hitting a patch of water on the highway and feeling the car skid for what felt like an eternity. Now, I always reduce my speed by at least 10-15 mph below the limit in heavy rain, and it's made a world of difference. Keeping a firm grip on the wheel and avoiding sudden movements is another lifesaver; smooth steering and gentle braking help maintain control when the road feels like an ice rink.
Another game-changer for me was learning to use my headlights correctly. Not just the daytime running lights, but the full headlights—even in light rain. It’s shocking how many drivers forget this, blending into the gray haze of a downpour. I also swear by keeping a bigger following distance than usual. On dry roads, I might leave three seconds between me and the car ahead, but in rain, I double that. It gives me enough time to react if the guy in front slams on his brakes or hits a puddle. And speaking of brakes, I’ve gotten into the habit of tapping them lightly now and then to dry the rotors, especially after driving through deep water. Little tricks like that have saved me from more than one close call. At the end of the day, driving in rain is all about patience and preparation—annoying as it might feel in the moment, it’s way better than dealing with a crumpled bumper or worse.
2026-05-25 21:51:26
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Driving Lessons With My Goddaughter
Wealthy Abalone
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"Hank, there's something hard down there pushing into me."
On the driving school car, I was teaching my goddaughter how to drive by letting her sit on my lap, my hands over hers on the wheel.
But right after we started, the engine stalled, and the whole car jerked hard.
Her round hips settled deep into my thighs.
To make things even more intense, she was wearing nothing but a skirt that barely covered her.
"Coach, please stop. I came here to learn how to drive, not to have an affair."
Inside the instructor's car, because I kept failing to control the clutch, Coach Reeves, who happened to be my husband's friend, made me sit on his lap to teach me.
The problem was, I was wearing a short skirt that day, and underneath it, I wasn't even wearing safety shorts.
Even worse, he actually pulled his member out and pressed it straight against me.
It started with a sudden downpour.
I turned around to buy an umbrella. By the time I got back, Winston Sterling had already draped his overcoat across Sera Thorne’s shoulders.
He pulled me under the umbrella, his tone gentle, as if soothing a spoiled child. "Sera can't handle the cold. Just let her have it this once, Nat. Be a good girl. Don't make a fuss."
I looked down at my own shoulder, which was already completely soaked through. I didn't say a word.
We had been building our startup for five years. Everyone always said Winston and Sera were the dual heart and soul of Sterling Tech. One wrote the code, while the other pitched the product.
Meanwhile, I was the one managing the budgets, chasing down clients, advancing money for our office rent, and pulling all-nighters to grind out business proposals. Yet, all I ever got from him was a single, offhand sentence.
"Nat, you're always the reasonable one."
But I finally understood. It was always the reasonable one who got pushed out into the rain, time and time again.
When the car door opened, Winston practiced an all-too-familiar routine, adjusting the passenger seat cushion for Sera.
That was a lumbar support cushion I had bought for myself after injuring my waist.
I threw the newly purchased umbrella straight into the trash can. Then, I pulled up my phone and clicked send on the equity exit agreement I had prepared long ago.
Three minutes later, his reply came back as a brief, three-word text.
"Don't be silly."
What he didn't know was that at that exact same moment, I had also opened another email.
In my last international car racing championship,
the front tire of my car suddenly burst, causing the car to roll over.
The cars behind me collided with me one by one.
After 99 times, I was unrecognizable from the impacts.
Just as I reached out to my boyfriend for help by instinct,
he kicked me away, my body covered in blood and flesh.
“Don't dirty my newly tailored clothes today.”
He turned around, picked up the champion who had just crossed the finish line, and spun her around, smiling and saying:
“Sharon, only the championship trophy is worthy of you. I will remove all obstacles for you.”
Blood stained my entire body.
Watching the two of them embrace as the sun set, I felt numb and desperate.
What he didn't know was that among these red stains was the child who had just come into this world.
At that moment, I gave up on continuing to love him.
At ten years old, I watched my mom jump to her death in a rainstorm.
That same night, my dad brought home a glamorous woman and her nine-year-old daughter.
I had feared and hated rainy days since then.
My husband once helped me face that childhood trauma, staying by my side through every storm and promising, "Don't worry, Lena, you'll never face your fears alone."
But when I refused to pick up his new assistant, he abandoned me on a highway in pouring rain, saying, "Marie is your sister, and you left her out there? Walk home!"
That night, the rain never stopped, and I walked thirteen hours along a dark, endless road.
That was when I decided I was done with him.
When the hospital director called me for the tenth time, I was still stuck in traffic on the winding mountain road leading into the city.
A pink Polo driving inexcusably slow was wedged in the middle of two lanes and obstructing my path.
The "New Driver" sticker on the rear of the car seemed to insult me.
I took a deep breath before slamming on the horn.
That was when the car jerked to a stop. A man in a floral shirt stepped out of the car, marched to my car, and pounded on my window.
"What's with the rush?! Can't you tell by the sticker that I'm a new driver? If you cause an accident, you're going to have to pay up!"
I gripped the steering wheel so tightly that veins bulged on the back of my hand.
The director's desperate cries were still echoing in my ears, "Dr. Leigh, the boy is dying! The only information we have is that his father's name is Ronald Baker!"
Upon noting my silence, the man smiled smugly before smacking the hood of my car. "Go ahead, drive over the barrier to bypass me if you want! Even the police have to slow down for me!"
With that, he slammed his brand-new driver's license against my window. "Look closely, I just got my license yesterday! I'm a legal driver!"
I quickly glossed over the driver's license. What stood out to me was his name printed on the license.
Ronald Baker.