Riding in the rain, what a glorious feeling

There I was. It was 7pm. My wife was at work and my kids were at a friend’s house playing. If ever there was a perfect time to go for a bike ride, this was it. Rarely am I presented with such an unencumbered gift. Usually, I have to pawn my kids off on friends and steal time away from my wife to go on a ride. There I was, with a gift. The only problem was that it was lightly raining outside and the weather radar showed a thunder storm cell approaching.

Now riding in the rain has a romantic appeal to it. And being able to say I went on a ride in the rain has a nice, manly vibe to it. So on a theoretical level, this sounded like a great idea with lots of potential for self-aggrandizement and ego inflation. I have to admit that I had another motivation as well. A friend had just left a smug post on Facebook about how riding in the rain was a nice change but then he had to wash his bike. I mean does anyone else see that this clever little comment was a way to brag about riding in the rain? I surely wasn’t going to be out-manned by him. That dude shaves his legs. What is up with that?

Anyway, just a few minutes into my glory ride reality began to set in and I discovered some problems with going for a ride in the rain.

1. Grit
Yeah, grit…dirt from the road. It flies up with the water and gets in your mouth. Now, granted a little abrasive on the teeth is good for you; it helps clean out hard-to-dislodge plaque and tartar. But this isn’t any ordinary dirt. And I’m no stranger to dirt. I’m an archaeologist. I am not afraid of dirt. I like dirt. Dirt is my chosen medium. Hell, my name in Hebrew means man of the red earth. If ever there was a person destined to spend his days in the iron-rich Piedmont soils of the American South, it was me. But this isn’t any old dirt. This is road dirt…and not just any old road dirt. It is road dirt washed from the road by a gentle rain. This is the kind of dirt that has mingled with possum entrails, spent time with dog poop, let oil float on its top. This is the kind of dirt that has hitched a ride with water carrying heavy metals, household cleaners, rat poison, insecticides, and good old fashioned human waste. And yep, it was all in my mouth to the point where my teeth crunched with I clenched them (Hey, the still do). Once my wife reads this, she’ll be sending me off to the doctor for a thorough cleaning.

2. Cars
Now of course there are going to be cars. I cycle on the road, in town. There are cars and trucks and motorcycles and even golf carts. No big deal. They are generally pretty good at sharing the road or at least giving me the chance to get the hell out of the way before they occupy the space I was riding in.

When it rains, however, people in the South take leave of their senses. Normally stable and reliable drivers become unpredictable maniacs. They lose their peripheral vision and their depth perception. They drive erratically with a wild look in their eye, as if they are being pursued by unfathomable evil. It is like they are living a horror film and whatever the horror is, it is right behind them. Its rain! It is chasing them and as hard as they try they cannot out run it. Drive, drive.

Honestly, when it rains cars automatically just fly off the road. It is like people see the rain and just throw up their hands and give in to the futility of driving in the rain. They simply let go of the wheel and let the car fly off the road. It is amazing…and scary. And I was out there in it tonight. Luckily no one abandoned the road while they were near me. I made it a short ride, though. There’s no telling what might have happened if I had stayed on the road any longer.

3. That thunderstorm cell
Oh yeah and that storm cell that looked like it might come my way…it did. It came sneaking up behind me. Right after I had finished about mile six I heard this deafening boom and crash right behind me. The hair on the back of my neck stood up and I had that undeniable urge to flee as fast as possible. The last time I remember hearing that kind of sound and feeling that flight urge I was doing archaeology. I was doing a site survey at Fort Bragg in North Carolina. I had inadvertently got myself and my crew a little out of our survey area. We had wandered into the area between the artillery range and the impact zone. The artillery range is where they fire the big guns and the impact zone is where the shells land and explode. In between, where we were “surveying,” is that area where the shells whiz over head. The sound of firing, the flight of the shell, and its explosive impact was really, really, really scary. I think my crew may have lost a little confidence in me after that. I am pretty sure they took the map away from me.

Anyway, with the thunder came flashes of lightning and then a down pour. Needless to say I ended my ride at almost 9 miles. That’s OK, I just wanted to do a little warm up. Tomorrow I’ll go for maybe a 2 hour ride…as long as it doesn’t rain.