I survived Phoenix's record high of 122°F On June 26, 1990. It was reportedly 123°F but, again, the airport's reading is considered official.
Driving home from work was surreal. It didn't just feel hot. It felt hot on a higher scale, very eerie. Exiting the freeway, I had to wait at a red light surrounded by concrete walls radiating heat onto cars from both sides as well as from below. The car's A/C couldn't keep up. Planes were grounded because nothing had ever been tested at those temperatures {or so they claimed}. Birds were grounded too. They just hopped around on the ground with their beaks wide open — very strange. Rear view mirrors fall off the windshield because the adhesive fails.
I am so happy to be back in Michigan!
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