It’s a battle I’m destined to lose.
On occasion I’m victorious but when I lose, the price is greater for me.
I’m talking about the ride home on the bike vs. the spring weather.
On these spring days where winter hasn’t let go and summer is raising it hand for attention, the weather going to work is not always equal to the weather returning home. When I leave I have to be prepared anything. Cold fronts, thunderstorms, and even snow can happen.
From my desk, I’m able to pull up the radar image from the local news channel. I can see the storms rolling in from the west. The colors will tell me if it’s rain or snow coming and how much. I can zoom in for a more detailed look. Depending on the time I remember to check this view, it can give me a great advantage. The challenge comes when the incoming storm is timed exactly with the ride home.
My route home leads me directly west right into the face of any incoming weather fronts. At about half way and leaving the residential route, I turn north around the mountain point that divides my working county and my living county. The gravel pits release their bellows of dust and dirt with the always accompanying violent winds and the storm has the opportunity of a T-bone shot. It is at this point that the risk of getting caught looms greatest and my timing calculations either gave me enough time or not.
I’m a gambling soul and I find I like to push my luck and look for the edge of the radar blips and try to slip around the point of the mountain, make the quick broad side run, and slip under my covered parking spot right as the wet weather begins.
I’m pretty good at it. But not always.
Rain is not anything that cannot be dealt with, provided you wear your rain gear. But where would the victory be if I did that? No when I get caught by the rains, it’s wet and miserable. If it snows, it’s wet, miserable, and slippery dangerous. Lightning storms are all that, as well as the thrill of Russian roulette in wondering where the next bright flash will strike and counting the seconds until the clap of thunder roars. It’s all part of the fun.
It’s said that, in Utah, if you don’t like the weather, just wait 5 minutes. The ride home is about 25. Sometimes the funnest 25 minutes all week. Sometimes not.