It rained all day and it rained all afternoon, so when I pulled out from under the house on the Bonneville I was swaddled in black waterproof plastic.
It wasn't particularly cold, close to eighty degrees, but it sure was wet. I stopped at the Post Office on Summerland to drop off a couple of Netflix discs we had watched to burn off a wet afternoon, and the parking lot at the post office was shiny with water.
The Saddlebunch Keys were lost in a fog of rain and wind driven spume, the sort of views that one likes to see for an hour or two, then watch the sun burn off. Not likely yesterday, as there was no sun at all, ever.
I wasn't cold, all muffled up even though my boots aren't really waterproof and some water tends to climb my pant legs in the heaviest downpours. I had my work clothes secure in a pannier so I could work all night in dry clothes. I was snug as a bug in a rug on the highway.
It sure was gloomy at 4:30 in the afternoon.
When I got into town I paused on South Roosevelt to admire the violence of the storm.
And intrepid cyclist was commuting home smiling as he went.
And the ocean was all frothed up by the power of the wind, with whipped cream flying off the tops of the waves.
I saw a few scooter riders out and about, the tourists laughing wildly and getting wet while the locals wrapped themselves in ill assorted bits of plastic to try and stay dry.
It is, I admit it, huge fun rolling through the rain. No hypothermia, no ice, no electrical break down drama.
What a great way to commute.
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