I probably should have known I was in for trouble when I rolled up to Piermont. The skies were clear after the early PM thunderstorm, but then a couple came up and asked me some questions about the shop and riding in the area. My 'cross bike sat in the rack, blinking quietly from the half-dozen lights strapped to it.
We chatted about the heat and the time of day (and my lights) and then they made a comment about the thunderstorm. "I could use a bit more of that, to cool things off" I heard myself say, and then instantly regretted it.
As Glenn pulled up the lightning began to strike out in the river. The skies darkened. We waited for Gerry who never showed (smart or chicken, I don't know) and then headed out. Suddenly the skies went black.
"Which way?" I asked. Glenn surveyed the storm, and pointed at the heaviest, darkest, thickest clouds.
"That way."
By the time we hit Grandview it was so dark we needed our lights, yet it was still an hour before sunset. We could see the front of the squall line cutting across the river, could see the lightning striking in Nyack. By the time we hit the bridge, there was a downpour.
We rolled up the hill from under the bridge with a cascade of water pouring against us. The wind was strong enough it almost blew my bike over.
Through Nyack the rain got harder. Cars disappeared from the road and soon it was just us, rolling through town in what was easily the hardest rain I've ever been in. Glenn, lit up like a Christmas tree almost disappeared at one point, completely obscured by rain and the fog of my glasses.
As we passed my house I felt I hadn't had enough miles yet, and Glenn was hooping and hollering, really enjoying the rain. Truth be told, so was I.
It got even heavier as we rode down to the Hook, despite the seeming impossibility of rain being heavier than it had been. Lightning struck overhead.
Glenn suggested heading west, but I pointed out that that route would take us over the highest mountain in the area during a thunderstorm. There's stupid, and then there's stupid.
As we circled around and headed back toward Piermont the rain let up a bit, and so we extended my night by heading back toward his home, and I rode with him across the bike path bridge, leaving by Lowes.
Completely soaked, water pouring from my shoes with each pedal stroke I headed home in the dark, wet night, as the rain picked up again.
It's two hours later and I still feel wet, despite a hot shower and a warm bed. I might have gotten water somehow inside my skin.
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