After Church a number of folk came up to me and said something akin to: At least it stop raining for you to ride home. Truth was because of the rain I'd stretched my usual forty minute ride to Church into an hour and a half.
|Billie waiting patiently for my return.|
Today was a perfect day to ride in the rain. There was no wind. There was no thunder or lightning. And, it was a warm steady and persistent rain.
After Church, I went for even a longer ride. I hadn't planned to, but you see it began to rain again. It had warmed up enough that I stopped and replaced my Aerostich lobster claws with a pair of old leather mesh gloves. I've found that this helps keep me from melting inside my rain gear. So, I rode for another two and a half hours . . . in the rain.
|Since Billie and I take the streets little traveled there aren't ever a lot of crazies out in the rain and even fewer on Sunday.|
What is it I like so much about riding in the rain? I think for me it is the silence. There is a stillness that settles in around me on days like today. It has its own character. It isn't like the silence that seems to gobble and mute noise that comes with snow. No, the rain silence is more of an including silence, a symphonic silence. It is like a rest in the midst of a measure. There is an anticipation in the rain silence. It is a fragile and elusive silence.
I admit to having a little envy of those folks with sidecar rigs who can ride into the snow silence. I've ridden in the snow when conditions have been right, but those moments are very rare. I'd like to explore this silence of the snow more, but for now I will be happy mapping the silence resting in the midst of the rain.
|There is a going with the flow when it rains. And, possibly because traction is a little compromised an increase in my sense of alertness.|
Oh well, then again, perhaps my love of riding in the rain goes back to being raised on a farm. When it rained we didn't work. I liked rainy days then, and heaven knows I still do.