deluge!

I came home from Manhattan by bike yesterday, during an early evening rainstorm.
Biking in rain is generally non-recommended behavior. But it was time to go home...and i think the fact that i had recently gotten my ass kicked romantically made the stormtrip inviting. There's nothing like an intense physical experience to clear out your psyche. As recently as the evening before, i had been so lovesick that i was physically ill, unable to eat.
As i started home, i thought perhaps i had missed the worst of the storm. But as i neared the Williamsburg Bridge, the rains returned in force. I stopped to get my poncho out, quickly realizing that my poncho was missing (which accompanied the earlier realization that i had left my tail light at home). But i most always have backup plans, and i pulled a large trash bag out of my pack, and began punching holes for head and limbs. By the time i was ponchoed, darkness had fallen and the wind had increased, driving the rain sideways into my sidewalk shelter. At this point, a more sage person might have found some Manhattan refuge to wait out the weather. But like i said, my psyche felt a need to be in it all. The rain was so intense that i gave pause to wonder whether my phone, inside my insulated fanny pack, would remain dry. I also carried a mini-boombox in my backpack. Even with a poncho, i had my doubts about keeping it or all my papers dry. But i was off.
At the base of the bridge, i passed a few bikers who were prudently waiting out the storm. But if you've never biked over a bridge in a storm, you're missing one of life's singular experiences. On the way up, i passed two men ardently embraced and kissing each other deeply. It was rather beautiful, obviously a very intense moment for them. The crossing was mostly solitary, except for a few walkers i passed coming down on the Brooklyn side. At one point around the apex, i suddenly felt that lightning was about to strike very close to me...............but it didn't happen. By that point, the water accumulation was so great that my sneakers were full to the brim, and i hadn't even stepped in water. The most conspicuous dangers of storm riding are that your brakes don't work, and you can't clearly see road irregularities. Again, i admit that this is idiot's behavior. But for much of the ride, exhilaration had me shouting for joy (sometimes echoed back by the stray people i passed). The lack of pothole visibility was a particular problem, as my chief route was Brooklyn's Broadway, which is the most raggedy-ass NY road i know, a crumbly headache even in dry conditions. But fortune was with me; i had only one wrist-clanging moment, and one moment when a sudden road seam channeled me directly toward a parked bus.
By the time i was within a mile or two of home, the rain had lessened considerably. Very peaceful, it became. Arrived home, i found my fanny pack insulation had not failed, and that my pack stuff was still reasonably dry. It was a beautiful experience, the kind that makes you happy to be alive. I do indeed love you all very much.