Monday, March 1, 2010
When it Rains...
Flash back over ten years ago:
After purchasing my first motorcycle (a cool maroon-ish color Honda) and finally building enough strength to heave it onto the center stand (because what good is a motorcycle if you aren't strong enough to put it on the kickstand?) I was ready for my maiden voyage.
I distincly remember my first ride on the freeway: my dad and I were taking a left turn onto the Sunset on-ramp. I was so nervous to get on the freeway considering the majority of my riding experience up to that point included parking lots and country roads. My dad assured me it would be alright - just take it easy, keep up with traffic, don't get caught in the grooved pavement (it can tip you over), don't get in the left lane, we're only going two exits then we're getting off, stay right behind me, don't forget to turn off your blinker (they're not self-cancelling), if we get separated I'll pull over and wait, look out for loose gravel and bridge decking and good luck. Right.
All that went out the window. Because, as we headed on to the on-ramp, there was a Jeep completely engulfed in flames pulled off on the shoulder. Right on. 'Cause that's not distracting....
After that, we planned a long weekend trip to Winthrop to visit some friends. It was early summer and the weather was still unpredictable. We headed out under cloudy and very threatening skies. It wasn't long before it just started to pour rain on us. Let's just say I wasn't really dressed for the occasion. Jeans and a cheap leather jacket do nothing to combat road spray. As we head in to hour #2 of our voyage my dad (riding ahead of me) pulls into a gas station with covered parking, stops, looks at me and the following conversation happened:
Dad: "I thought we'd stop so you could put on your rain gear."
Me: "I didn't bring it."
Me: "I didn't bring it."
Me: "I didn't think it was going to rain."
Dad: "But it was raining when we left."
Point taken. I rode the remaining 100 miles in the pouring rain without even so much as a mumble about how totally uncomfortable I was. I knew there was no sympathy coming from him, considering he was the one who bought me the rain gear in the first place.
Flash forward: Last weekend.
Gone are the days of the Honda, replaced with (what I think) is a much cooler, faster and louder Harley Sportster. Gone also are the days of a motorcycle that doesn't leak oil. The Harley (as cool as I may think it is) has a serious piddle problem. Friday afternoon I had to deliver the bike to a shop on South Lake Samish. (A good 45 minute ride from home.) And it was pouring rain. We've had the warmest, dryest February that anyone can remember and I had to ride my motorcycle in the flipping pouring rain. So, half way to the shop, absolutely drenched (not wet, drenched) I think to myself, "Wow. I should have worn my rain gear." Then I start laughing outloud to myself. Thank God my dad wasn't following in the car. He would have reamed me about how dumb that was.
We arrive and I strip off my chaps which have protected my legs somewhat from the rain, but my crotch is absolutely soaked through. It looked like I pissed myself.
And Todd says, "Why didn't you wear your raingear?"
Why didn't I wear my rain gear? Even I amaze myself sometimes with the stupid things I do.