Frankly, I haven't biked in the rain -- a steady, measurable rain -- for many years. So this afternoon, as I watched from my office window bits of our planet's fresh water pour down upon a large swath of our macadamized soil, I saw an opportunity rising. Some coworkers advised against my returning in rain; another offered me a ride home. I checked the radar and the window a few times and waited for an opportunity. Fortunately, just at quittin' time the rain tapered off from a downpour into a steady, light patter. I grabbed helmet and panniers and headed out the door.
I hadn't checked the weather this morning, so I wasn't entirely ready for this rainy return trip. Mainly, I didn't have a waterproof shell. This didn't seem to matter, for as soon as I hit the pedals I was enjoying myself, despite a steady soaking of my clothes. And for some reason my bike seat was not soaked with water (perhaps a benefit of locking to a tree). Balancing my ill-equipped-ness were front and rear blinkers, and snap-on fenders. The kid in me loved watching them block so much water that the tires lifted toward me.
The last bit of my ride home is a quarter mile hill that terminates at our driveway. Perhaps this was the riskiest portion of the trip, with my wet rims treating my brake pads as is they were skis. No consequences, though -- not even a slip.