Getting out of a parking lot bigger than our downtown was a gamble at every turn before I ever got to the exit. That was after 20 minutes of trying to talk my GPS in to taking me home the way I came via Stillwater and Perkins. She never listened to me so I mistakenly ended up on I-40 at noon Sunday.

It was gray outside.

Ditto for inside the car where I gripped the steering wheel white-knuckle style. My back was straighter than a board while I peddled along at 50 mph and traffic whizzed by me faster than the speed of light.

Road signs cautioned construction ahead, and for a moment I tried to suck all of the air out of the car until another sign warned of a speed reduction.

That was my ticket to relax. Everyone would have to slow down. Wrong! The speed limit went from 70 to 65, which meant that regular Interstate drivers went from 75 to 80.

It was a bumpy ride in the construction slow lane.

I wanted to get off the Interstate and onto real streets, but exits only listed numbers until I finally saw a Tinker Field sign and took it.

I was in Midwest City for a time, then on another Interstate before I knew it, then saw an Oklahoma City downtown exit and took it.

Once there the sun was shining and all was right with my world as I drove through Brick Town and saw long lines outside restaurants. Oops! A big blue torpedo on the other side of the street caught me off guard. It was just a streetcar, but I worried that I’d run into one, or vice versa.

Then I got onto Broadway, then Northwest 13th St., then finally Classen Blvd. My old stomping grounds as a teenager.

On to the Northwest Highway with a pit stop at Panera Bread, and before I knew it I was at the Sonic in Okarche for a Dr Pepper, then at the world’s best and friendliest McDonald’s in Kingfisher for a breakfast biscuit.

Soon I passed the lighted speed warning sign in Hennessey, made a couple of turns and was on my street. I noticed we’d had a big rain while I was gone and the street flooded again.

Three inches of rain that morning, my neighbor told me as I unpacked my car. That must have been why I got the flood warning on my cell phone that morning, I told her.

I’d turned off two wake-up alarms that morning and slept until just before the 11 a.m. hotel checkout time. Little did I know that would also give time for the water to recede on our street.

Statewide flooding explained why no one honked their horns or made finger puppets at me while I crept along on the Interstate after leaving Shawnee’s Grand Casino Hotel and Resort. I was there for a newspaper convention. The only gambling I did over the weekend was to take the Interstate Sunday morning.