It can be quite fun when you DO think about it long after it's over.
You don't think about it when you're in it though. You just get through it. And it's only at the end, when your clothes are soaked right through, when you're taking squishy steps in every move you make, when your hair's wet, your bike's wet and your bike trousers are weighing you down... that you look back at what just happened and you realize that, oh yeah, that WAS fun.
You don't think about it when you're in it though. You just get through it. And it's only at the end, when your clothes are soaked right through, when you're taking squishy steps in every move you make, when your hair's wet, your bike's wet and your bike trousers are weighing you down... that you look back at what just happened and you realize that, oh yeah, that WAS fun.
We'd had a foreboding of sorts whilst going along East Coast Park where the breezy winds and smoky smells of barbecued meat wafted through the air. You could see that the skies weren't sunny and bright... but it was in the horizon, and anyway, if we were to look at the darkening skies and decide that we'd forgo the ride for 20 minutes of rain, then it would be no use at all, and after all, since we could help it, well, why think about stopping?
So we continued, and of course, the skies grew darker as we went along.
At the furthermost end of East Coast Park on this bridge near the chalets, and here I had to stop because of this police car which had, for whatever reason, parked itself right outside a gate, squeezing itself into the narrow space and leaving no biker any room to maneuver whatsoever.
At the area after the bridge where there was this lovey-dovey young couple who were on separate bikes but riding so romantically slow next to each other that I had to slow down and dodge them because there was just enough room for two bikes and their giggles and smiles hogged up all the space.
At the furthermost end of East Coast Park on this bridge near the chalets, and here I had to stop because of this police car which had, for whatever reason, parked itself right outside a gate, squeezing itself into the narrow space and leaving no biker any room to maneuver whatsoever.
At the area after the bridge where there was this lovey-dovey young couple who were on separate bikes but riding so romantically slow next to each other that I had to slow down and dodge them because there was just enough room for two bikes and their giggles and smiles hogged up all the space.
That foreboding turned a little more serious along that road with all the trucks trundling past to build the new airports, a little more still as we went past the Tanah Merah Canal (for lack of better name!) and a little, little more still on the Changi Coastal Road.
It turned serious enough for us to come to a decision midway through dinner. There was going to a prolonged thunderstorm at our final destination- the weatherman had forecasted- and if we were going to go there, we would absolutely land ourselves in the heart of it, so recklessness aside, let's turn back, we said, but let's take another route. Who knows, we agreed, we might just be able to avoid the lightning and thunder and rain.
But as all things go, you can strategize all you want, you can measure all the probabilities, you can calculate and calibrate as carefully as you can so as to avoid as many sticky situations possible but somehow, SOMEHOW you'll find yourself in the thick of it anyway.
With nowhere else to hide but to go straight through the sludge.
Okay, there was no mud for me, but heck, there was a lot of rain. Plenty of it, I'm telling you, and it alllll came down whilst I was braked at this large traffic intersection with three fields on either side of me somewhere in the neighborhood of Tampines.
What I'm saying is that I was in the middle of NOWHERE, with no immediate shelter in my line of sight, when three little unassuming drops of rain turned into a massive downpour.
But it's no use yelling at the skies, so I zipped across the road when the lights turned green, tried edging into the nearest bus stop, but said bus stop was just as full with everyone in there dodging the downpour, and so I couldn't get in, and with the next nearest shelter another stretch away, I did the next best thing.
Braked, blocked the wind so that the bike wouldn't fall, opened the bag, pulled out the parka case, shook out the parka, unzipped it, tossed it on, zipped it up, threw phone and earphones and sweets and music player and tissue paper into the bag sitting inside the bag, shot the hood up, got back onto the bike and onwards to the second intersection where I was supposed to find the next shelter.
Which I would have fount faster had I not gotten lost (things happen!) but hey, I found it anyway. :)
Another bus stop, a very empty one this time, so happily I hopped in, shook out as much water as possible from the bag- forget about the boots- and sat there catching my breath, waiting for the rain to pass, together with a very adorable white cat who, unlike the rain-sloshed human beside her, was comfortably tucked up, all snug, warm, and dry.