At 6:30 this morning, I walked into the backyard and pull my big blue bike off Mansland porch. The rain was barely making it's way through the spring leaves. As the fish rose to meet me, I walked to the alley, only stopping to pry the gate open. By the time I reached the street, I knew I was going to get wet, but I had made the decision.
This is a cool spring rain. Soft. Slight breeze. As I glided down the street with a cathedral of old trees I listened to the droplets splash in small puddles. A jogger ran by and another biker said hello. I'm not the only crazy person in the world.
It's refreshing to do something you know is not the normal way. Purposely riding downtown in a rain shower at 6:30 in the morning, the grey streets welcoming the lit sky and the street lights flicker off. The wet black cat stopped before crossing my path.
Then, pow, the lights of a metal mobile machine flash on and I awoke from my daze of splash and whir of pedaling.
Two hours later, my cloths drip to dry, but they will be fine for the ride home. It will just be cloudy then. It will just be cloudy.