I rode in the rain today. It was more-or-less just spitting when I left the office and actually pretty warm…almost tropical feeling. As I climbed towards the mountains, it got increasingly more wet, but I just told myself the spray going up my taint was therapeutic—a comforting road grit enema of sorts.
For as grim as it looked outside, I was pretty happy and comfortable, and only got a tiny bit cold descending Laurel Glen. Even my toes were warm, despite wet shoes and socks.
The reaction you get from people on a day like this is always funny to me. Behind their windshield wipers you could read it on their faces--“Kook!” “Poor guy!” “That looks SO dangerous!” “What’s the matter with those people?!”
They don’t get it—the perfect rhythm of the raindrops and the way you tick over the pedals to match it in time; the subtle, almost subconscious little body shifts that makes the bike magically hold traction in the curves; the way the scenery is transformed and the air is scrubbed clean.
So I guess I am a kook…and a perfectly content one at that.
For as grim as it looked outside, I was pretty happy and comfortable, and only got a tiny bit cold descending Laurel Glen. Even my toes were warm, despite wet shoes and socks.
The reaction you get from people on a day like this is always funny to me. Behind their windshield wipers you could read it on their faces--“Kook!” “Poor guy!” “That looks SO dangerous!” “What’s the matter with those people?!”
They don’t get it—the perfect rhythm of the raindrops and the way you tick over the pedals to match it in time; the subtle, almost subconscious little body shifts that makes the bike magically hold traction in the curves; the way the scenery is transformed and the air is scrubbed clean.
So I guess I am a kook…and a perfectly content one at that.
No comments:
Post a Comment