Rainy Ride

I tossed my leg over the teal green gas tank, pulled in the clutch lever, and pushed the little black starter button with my right thumb. The machine sprang to life with a muffled thump from its exhaust pipes, and sat there idling, awaiting the command to move. As I clunked it into gear and revved the engine to pull away, my mind started to wander to the weekend that had passed, and the emotions that it produced. The note of the engine changed from a rhythmic thumping to a packed growl as wound through the suburban streets and made my way onto the highway, and Bob Seger's "Turn The Page" crept into my mind, providing a musical backdrop for the prairie that lay ahead.

"On a long and lonesome highway,
East of Omaha
You can listen to the engine moaning
Out its one note song.
You can think about the Woman
Or the girl you knew the night before..."

The lyrics reflected my mood almost perfectly as I rolled down the tarmac, watching the clouds build all the way out to the horizon. Indeed, it was very difficult to think about anything other than the girl with whom I had spent the last couple of days. We had met only a few weeks ago, and yet my attraction for her had blossomed so quickly that even as I left her to go home for the week, I was already starting to miss her. A mere 300km separated us from door to door, but some days that felt like half way around the world. There was, however, an uneasy feeling developing in the pit of my stomach that something was not quite right. Perhaps we were moving a little too quickly. Maybe her feelings for me were not at the same level as mine. Perhaps those three words that I whispered to her the night before were best left unsaid, at least for now. But there was nothing that could be done about it now except to wait and see how things progress. The song continued on in my mind.

"Here I am, on the road again,
There I am, up on the stage,
Here I go, playing the star again,
There I go, turn the page..."

It's possible that my uneasiness was caused by something more immediate. When I pulled in to a gas station and filled my meager 17L tank, the light was fading quickly from the sky. There were some last rays of orange and pink sky trying to poke through to the west, but to the east where I was going, and where there would normally be a dark blue evening sky, loomed a wall of dark cumulus clouds. With a bit of luck, I thought, I may be able to sneak underneath this thick layer all the way out to my destination without getting wet. But as I got back on the bike I knew that this was just optimism speaking; of course there would be rain.

The first drops started just a few kilometers from the station. My trusty steel steed continued on without missing a beat, unaware of what was coming. As the sky got darker and the lightning flashes started off in the distance, my mind kept wandering back to a scene I had stuck in my mind: me stretched out on a couch under a blanket with a lady in my arms. But the thought was suddenly disturbed by a KABOOM that seemed to shake the whole bike while the entire sky lit up. That was a lot closer than I wanted it! The rain grew from a occasional drips to a steady shower of large drops, each one stinging my legs and hands like needles. And this was through the rain gear. As the roadway started filling up with water, the bike started squirming underneath me, the tires occasionally hydroplaning over deeper puddles. KABOOM! Another lightning strike, and then another. They were getting really close now, less than a couple hundred meters to the side of me in some farmer's field. My body started shivering slightly, either from the storm or from the cold, wet wind blowing through me. It was already long past time to stop, but there was nowhere to take shelter, no restaurants in which to have a coffee, just open prairie as far as the eye could see.

"Well you walk into a restaurant,
Strung out from the road
And you feel the eyes upon you
As you're shakin' off the cold..."

The rain started to subside as I pulled in to my parking spot and put the bike on the centre stand. After I got in the apartment and took a warm shower, I settled down into a warm bed and sent my lady a text message saying "goodnight," knowing well enough that she would be asleep by now. As I closed my eyes with her image on my mind, the song continued on.

"Later in the evening
As you lie awake in bed
With the echoes from the amplifiers
Ringin' in your head
You smoke the day's last cigarette,
Rememberin' what she said."

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[Note: I wrote this story several years ago for the first time, and several people expressed their liking for it. I liked it too, and was disappointed when I lost it, so I thought I would try re-writing it. I don't think I captured the imagery as well this time around. The reason I decided to post it today is that I had a very similar ride this weekend. The bike in the original story has long been sold, and the relationship that was just starting at that point has long ended, but I was once again returning home over the same route on a mostly rainy Sunday morning. The song in my mind was different ("Early morning rain" by Gordon Lightfoot I think), but the feeling was very similar. This time, however, the feeling was not about a relationship that had just started but rather about a friendship that was rekindled. I had got to spend some time catching up with a friend with whom I used to connect almost perfectly, but with whom I'd lost touch over the last little while. Having re-established that contact, and the potential of being good friends again made the rain entirely worthwhile.]