The wall of water isn’t falling from the sky…
The wall of water is standing there.
Had I gone any faster — it would’ve punched through the windshield.

On the right lane, herds of Truckosaurus Rexes migrate back to their breeding grounds for the weekend.

I’m overtaking on the left, doing a hundred.
Sure, the limit says 140.
Doesn’t matter much when physics says otherwise.

Then suddenly — and very Germanly — an Audi Q7 Panzerwagen materializes behind me.

No.
I’m not going faster.
Conditions, common sense, experience and basic survival instinct all voted against it.

But inside the SUV Q7 QUATTRO METALLIC EDITION, such earthly concerns no longer apply.

They flash the headlights.
They crawl right up your bumper.

From up there, seated high above civilization in a four-zone climate-controlled leather command center, wrapped in Alcantara and assisted by ABS, GPS, USB, PTSD, HDMI and divine intervention — reality starts looking different.

Technology really can perform miracles on a man.

Physics?
Not so much.

We slowly clear the truck herd.
I speed up a little and move aside.

If you absolutely must — go ahead.
I’m not homeschooling Darwin today.

Six hundred horses stampede forward.
Then, right as he’s passing my miserable little peasantmobile, I catch it from the corner of my eye:

the thing starts drifting toward me.

Well of course it does.

Loss of grip. Aquaplaning. Sudden panic.
Who could’ve predicted that flooring half the Wehrmacht across a motorway-sized puddle might end poorly?

When you start sailing, neither Quattro, Quattroporte nor Kentucky Fried Quattricken will save you.

I lift off the throttle — but don’t brake.
Trucks behind me.
I gently move right and drop back.
Distance first. Pride later.

The Q7 swings onto my lane and starts dancing across the motorway.
And I already know exactly what comes next.

He’s gonna slam the brakes.

And those gigantic carbon-ceramic Teutonic dinner plates, attached to two-and-a-half tons of armored suburban childcare anxiety, will stop dead in place —
and I’ll end up buried in his rear bumper,
because obviously it’ll be my fault for “not keeping safe distance.”

What I thought, he did.

But I was faster.

A split second before he hit the brakes, I was already in the other lane.
He stomped.
I gently rolled back onto the throttle.

He stayed behind.
Wobbled around in panic for a moment.
Finally stopped fighting the ESP long enough for it to do the job it was paid for.
The system caught the slide.
Stabilized the vehicle.

And then?

Then he quietly returned to the right lane…
and continued onward.

At a hundred.

Funny thing.
Sometimes, by saving your own ass,
you accidentally save somebody else’s too.