When the Minnesota Twins can’t play because of a thunderstorm, they are “rained out.” When we can’t ride because of a thunderstorm, we’re “rained in”. That’s the situation this morning.
It’s been a long, hard work week. We thought we’d take a breakfast ride this morning. There’s nothing like a motorcycle ride to stimulate your appetite; I usually gain two or three pounds when we take a road trip and spend a month trying to lose them again.
We have ridden into thunderstorms. There was a hell of a one, complete with hail, as we climbed the highway to Mesa Verde, Colorado. The sound of those little balls of ice bouncing off my helmet was loud!
And there was the one we knew we’d get caught in as we entered Memphis, Tennessee. We saw the flat anvil top of the clouds a long time before we encountered the rain, thunder and lightning on the freeway exit. Thankfully, it was at the end of a day’s ride and we were able to get out of our wet leathers quickly.
Sometimes riding in the rain is unavoidable. That’s what rainsuits are for. Sometimes, like the Minnesota Twins, you just need to wait the storm out.
The wind wailed outside my office window. Leaves, rain and yes, snow, blew past in furious gusts. It was, as this morning’s paper called it, a “warning shot” from winter. Time to hang it up for the season.
I got out the leather cleaner (great stuff from Australia) and began rubbing it into my chaps, which were still muddy from our last ride. I thought about the places I’d seen this past motorcycle season: the Mississippi River headwaters, B.B. King’s in Memphis, New Orleans’ French Quarter. How I’d learned that Iowa isn’t always flat, and armadillos live in Missouri.
As I wiped smashed insects off of my jacket, I thought about how my leathers had kept me dry during a Tennessee thunderstorm and actually afforded some cooling in the humid Deep South.
As I reached into the closet for the hanger, I realized I had’t put the lining back in this fall. That was one hell of a riding season!