No Place Like Home: A driving rain

[Times files 1997]

ST. PETERSBURG -- A storm is sweeping up from the south as I drive onto the Sunshine Skyway. On the Pinellas end, the low sun still glows on turquoise water just beginning to be pleated by the wind.

Above the bridge, dozens of birds swirl in the greenish light -- pelicans, terns, gulls, all heading for shelter. On the bay, a flock of small boats (it's Saturday afternoon) bounces toward the bridge to get under cover.

From the top of the span, the bay's south shore is invisible, hidden from the Little Manatee River to Anna Maria Island by a moving curtain of silver rain. Ahead of it the water is deep green slashed with purple.

Two men on shiny new motorcycles have stopped in the breakdown lane to scramble into color-coordinated Harley-Davidson branded rain gear.

I sail past them into the electric scent of rainwater and saltwater colliding. The curtain wraps me in.

"No Place Like Home" highlights underappreciated people, places, things and experiences in the Tampa Bay area.

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