Here comes the rain again...and again

Blog Date - 09 September 2011

There was a thing on the radio today about how much of a washout this summer has been. Ever since the school holidays began you'd think it's been raining constantly, all day and night every day. It hasn't. I admit we've had very few long hot summer days this time round, they seemed to come in May this year. But I can't recall being soaked to the skin every day and a perpetual puddle festering beneath my jacket when I've hung it up. Just lots and lots of grey days, or sporadic sunshine peeping between the clouds.

That said, this last week has been wet. Properly wet. It's quite easy to measure the rainfall around here, by the size of the puddle on the road by the park. Light rain or occasional downpours means the puddle barely exists, persistent rain causes the puddle to spread about a meter into the road and heavy downpours cause the puddle to become a ford over a major highway. It's great fun to watch cars, lorries and buses splashing through with great arcs of white water issuing from the wheels and drenching anyone fool enough to walk by on the small part of the path that remains above water level.

Staying dry on the bike becomes the order of the day. In the first instance my bike gear needs to be waterproof. Not waterproof like a flimsy walking jacket, I mean waterproof like wellington boots or waders. Any if not most gear can survive a light shower or even a small downpour, but few items can survive a 50 mile motorway blast in driving rain. It's the long runs that really test the mettle of a jacket or pants. New gear will cope, if it's good gear, but even the very best gear will give up the ghost when it becomes worn and weary.

It's always the flex points that give up. On a jacket it's the arms, around the crook of the elbow or beneath the armpit. On pants it's always the worst place you could hope for, the groin. I've lost count of the number of times my manhood has shriveled up all wrinkled due to a long, cold, wet and uncomfortable soaking. These points fail, I guess, due to the constant flexing of the waterproof membrane. When you walk the groin area is creased and folded, rubbed and twisted with each and every step. Every movement of the arms to open gates, move bikes and fiddle with keys has the same effect, but a bit slower, jackets always seem to last longer then pants. I've given up with gloves, no matter how waterproof the are the rain still gets in via the opening into which you hand goes. Rubber wellies or boots with a membrane can be waterproof, but even these fail in time.

So you may be lucky and have waterproof gear. Now you've got to get it all to seal together. If you're neck opening is loose then you may get that delightful feeling of a cold stream running down your back. If your waterproof pants are not up round your chest like Simon Cowell's pants then you'll get a wet jumper at the front. If your pants don't go right over your boots then the rain will fill them as quick as a river, especially with the spray off the front wheel. So before every ride you spend and age adjusting and repositioning every item to try and ensure that seal. Good luck.

It's turning dark earlier at night, and in the rain you're already cold and confused. Confused by the lights reflecting a million times off every rain drop on the visor, confused by not being able to see the road markings beneath the rivers of run-off, confused by poor visibility and confused by car drivers who either take no account of the conditions or slow down to a crawl. When it's dry I can corner faster than any 4 wheeler, yet in the rain with hidden diesel spills, polished metal grids, slippery paint and muddy surfaces, I'm holding up the cars this time. They're unaware of the change of grip or potential pitfalls on every inch of tarmac. Inside their boxes with heaters and radios the only difference to them is the windscreen wipers swishing in front of their eyes, hypnotising them into a false sense of security.

It's hard work. It's hard work and it's getting harder as each year passes by and I get older. There are times when I'm so cold, so wet, so tired and so disorientated I think I'll give it all up and use the blooming car. Yet there are times when I'm exalted in the worst that the weather can throw at me. It's me and my machine against God and his weather, and I'm winning, I'm here against all odds and all common sense. The wind is lashing me sideways, the rain is rattling hard against the visor and all hell is breaking loose around me, yet underneath all this gear I'm still warm, dry and happy to be on two wheels, no matter what.

Reader's Comments

Post Your Comment Posts/Links Rules