The radar looked favorable. If I timed it right, I could ride to work without getting wet. As Bill Cosby’s Noah once said, “RIGHT!”
It started out as a sprinkle. Since traffic was light I took Fort Hunt Road and the US 1 connector to the Mount Vernon Trail at the beltway. What cars there were gave me plenty of room. Drivers must be in a good mood.
Then the rain started. A little at first, then some more, then still more. Like Noah, I wanted to know “What’s a cubit?”
By the time I reached the airport ten miles into this little adventure, I was sopping wet. Animals were lining up in twos to get on Big Nellie. Voompah, voompah, voompah!
I saw Bob Cannon riding toward the 14th Street Bridge. He was not looking real happy. It’s hard to look happy when your beard is a sponge, I suppose.
I pulled into the garage at work and rolled past the big boss. He’s not actually big, he’s just the top dog. He’s not actually a canine…
He walked past me at the bike rack and, pointing to the puddle of water beneath me and my bike, I said, “Now this is dedication!” He replied, “in some countries, this is grounds for institutionalization.”
Since I was riding in clothes still wet from this morning, the ride home into a humid headwind wasn’t unpleasant. A few miles into the ride, I clicked my odometer. During the morning deluge Big Nellie turned 33.
At the beltway, I caught the light to cross Washington Street so I followed the US 1 connector and rode on Fort Hunt Road. I caught a light at Belle View Boulevard so I took a right and rode up brutal Beacon Hill. For months I have been having trouble with congestion in my lungs, but not today. I huffed and puffed all the way up the hill but there was no wheezing or coughing. I hope my lung problems are finally gone.
Once I reached the top of the hill, the rest of my ride home was a piece of cake. I even added another short hill for good measure.
So what does a dedicated bike commuter do on a four day weekend?
I ain’t building an ark.