The wind was whipping between the buildings, pulling at my T shirt as I exited the front of the hospital. Black apocalyptic clouds roiled low overhead, and the occasional rain drop smacked me on the head as I hurried to my locked up bike in the parking garage. I quickly unchained my ride, and wrapped the links around the seat post, securing them with the Kryptonite lock. I fastened the front wheel to the bike, placed the lights back on it, and rode out of the parking garage.
As I pedaled past the hospital, I tried to alter my route so I could duck into a protective alcove or a donut shop for protection from the looming torrent of rain. The humidity was hanging in the air like cigar smoke in a New Orleans pool hall. Occasionally, a rain drop splattered across my face, almost like a warning that I had better not tarry.
The clouds continued to dance overhead, mocking me with glimpses of clear blue sky and a sun illuminating them from above. To the East I saw a the grey slash of an isolated deluge. I continued to pump the pedals until I reached my residential district. There were no safe havens from the coming rain there. Homes of unknown neighbors flaunted porches that would be a taunting refuge should the heavens open up.
Finally, I swerved into my own driveway. I looked up at the skies. The clouds had left. The crystal blue void smiled upon me. Sweating, I hoisted my bike onto my porch and went inside to the cordial embrace of air conditioning. Grateful to be home, I scratched Ilsa behind the ears and let her out. I climbed in the shower to wash away the sweat, road grime and scum. When I was done, I let Ilsa back in. She was wet.
Labels: Bike Journal