It’s been a rainy fall here in New England, and every time I clip on my plastic fender to make the short trip to work I think of my time in Seattle and the way everyone (statistically) has a dedicated rain bike there. The number of people riding in the rain is really inspiring. Rain sucks, except that water gives rise to life on Earth, and we should probably be very careful what we wish for anymore.
I thought about rain again when I saw the storm Padraig got caught in this week in Taiwan.
Rain makes me think of Eurythmics, too: Here comes the rain again. Falling on my head like a memory. Falling on my head like a new emotion. (1983) I didn’t know what to make of Annie Lennox and Dave Stewart then, and even now I’m not sure what the metaphor means in that song, except maybe that getting wet is unpleasant, but you get used to it if you’re with the right person.
I was with my mother and brother in 1979 when Hurricane Frederic hit Mobile, AL. We huddled in the hallway of our brick, ranch-style home as the wind screamed under the backdoor and torrents of rain lashed the front windows. During the night, the roof of the back porch detached itself and flew away.
The wettest I ever got on a bike was on a long commute, back when I worked downtown. I was with my friend Sam, and I recall distinctly, as we snaked our way down along the Charles River into Boston, shouting to him through the downpour, “Well, this is fine. I can’t get any more wet than I am now.”
Truthfully, I seldom ride in the rain anymore. Maybe I’ve done my share of soggy chamois schleps. I’ve proven whatever point there was to prove, and the car occasionally offers a chance to catch up on podcasts. I’m getting soft in my (not yet) old age.
What about you? This week’s Group Ride asks two questions: 1) Do you ride in the rain? How do you manage that? Does it bother you? and 2) What’s the wettest you ever got on the bike?