View from the North 40: No need to worry. It was all under control.

For reasons that still seem sound because we all made it home safe — which I’m happy to state at the outset for people who can’t handle suspense — two friends and I hauled horses to Power, Montana, and back home yesterday despite ill-weather predictions.

To be fair, when the appointment was arranged, the forecast was for 70 percent chance of rain and thundershowers. The little storm icon only had clouds and rain that was depicted falling straight down from the clouds to the ground. So of course we’re going.

By morning of departure, the forecast was for late afternoon/evening thunderstorms, with strong winds — the rain in the icon was slanting and a lightning bolt shot from the sky. This was all fine because we didn’t have any yellow or red flag warnings in the areas we were driving ... at the times we would be passing through.

It’s all good.

Plus, I only had to drive 40 miles of the trip. I was meeting them along U.S. 87, a well-maintained federal highway, and we were loading my horse into their big stock trailer, hooked to a ¾-ton pickup being driven by someone you would most definitely want on your zombie apocalypse team. He could absolutely get us into and out of the worst of the storm zone.

And he did, y’know, in case you’re worried. We’re fine.

I should probably say here that it’s been 15 years or so since I’ve done much cross country horse hauling. I stopped competing so I had no need to haul around the state. I’ve done some local hauling, fair-weather hauling. But it’s OK, I still have a firm grasp of the fundamentals.

A big part of the equation is to look farther ahead of your vehicle at terrain, possible hazards and road signs because it takes longer distance to stop a pickup pulling a load and you don’t want to be slamming livestock around in the trailer. Get your load balanced. Check everything that hooks trailer to vehicle, and all doors, before leaving. Check your mirrors frequently so you stay aware of such things as where you are in your lane, what is going on with your trailer and traffic approaching you from behind.

No problem. I’m fine. I got this. I said in my head on the drive down to our meeting place. And I reviewed the smart driving practices, listed above, in my head a few times, y’know, just to be a conscientious driver on our public roadways.

Everything was fine, too, in case you were wondering.

I got to the rendezvous fine. Horse loaded into a new trailer next to a horse-stranger, fine. Trip to Power, fine. Business conducted, fine. Horses reloaded, fine. The weather was fi— hmm, look at that massive, dark storm front on the near horizon.

We got on the road and all agreed we weren’t in a rush so we didn’t push ourselves to the speed limit. We also stopped halfway home for food. In fact, right after the waitress gave our order to the cook, that obnoxious public alarm sounded on a TV somewhere in the building. Well, that added some interest to the day.

A friend whipped out her smart phone and read her weather app: high winds, driving rain, big lightning, hail and — wait for it — possible tornadoes, including in the area in which we were parked, waiting for our burgers and fries.

It’s fine. No problem. We eat fast.

We were back on the road in some wind and occasional light rain, none of which posed a real threat. Still, when we got to my pickup and trailer we quickly swapped horses around and got back on the road in our separate vehicles.

I got this.

The thing is that, in the event of strong winds while pulling a trailer, you have to start assessing your vehicle and trailer’s ability to handle the wind, keep an eye on the weather to assess changes in threat level and, most problematically, drive way, and I mean WAY, slower than your urge to race your way out of the storm. The good news about that is that you have plenty of time to think about places up ahead to pull into in case that wall of rain approaching from the west hits you before you’re home.

But I was fine. The wind and rain were fine. No worries. The horse was fine. Everything was fine. I could be the hero in my own apocalypse, even with a nervous facial tic.

I made it home with eight minutes to spare — plenty of time to throw the horse in her pen, fling some hay into the feeder, pull the pickup and horse trailer into the barn in case there’s hail, and run into the house. No problem.

Then the heavens opened up, wind tore down tree limbs and the rain hit so hard it created white-out conditions.

I watched that from my kitchen window.

I told you, I’m fine. Even the fiacial tic is gone.

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My friends got caught in a bit of that storm before pulling into their yard, but no worries, the leader of the zombie apocalypse team was driving. They were fine. We’re all fine at http://www.facebook.com.viewfromthenorth40/.