That was my thought on the weather during yesterday’s pedal home. It could well have been the prelude to the Rapture only a couple of days late.
As I set off from Smethwick the skies turned black, the wind came to the crease (The British equivalent of stepping up to the plate) and the rain did a pretty good impression of particularly soaking stair rods. It kept that performance up all the way to Rubery. By which time I just didn’t care.
I hadn’t got waterproofs, I’d taken the Crud Road Racers off my Giant Defy and because it’s May I wasn’t wearing waterproof socks.
If I’d jumped into a swimming pool I’d have come out drier. But, as I said I didn’t care, it never bothers me too much getting wet on the way home. Indeed I put in not too bad a time home considering the howling gale that was the headwind.
I was actually grinning from ear to ear as I struggled up Frankley Beeches trying my best to lean into the wind to stop me being blown onto the grass verge and keeping my face away from the stinging downpour being unleashed onto me.
I enjoyed it. How does that work then?
My dripping kit went straight into the washing machine (mainly to dry it out) and I tried in vain to dry my cycle shoes off that were squelching as I walked. I failed. I had to wear my old Shimano MTB shoes this morning as my DHBs were still soaking wet. That led to a near comedy SPD fail at the Priory Road traffic lights this morning. I just about unclipped in time!
But, the wind has eased, the sun is out and I’m still here, I guess yesterday’s weather was just nature after all and we can relax about vanishing and just leaving a crumpled pile of clothes behind us.