"Are You taking a Piss, Darling?"

Dodging the raindrops

There were showers today. I slalomed between some on the way in to work and ended up filtering through traffic in bright sunlight making folly of my choice to wear a fleece, which had seemed sensible down on the cooler coast.

From work, however, I hit upon the reverse. First, there was much filtering fun. I have to say thanks to those who move out of my way like a Rozzer, or something (must be the white fairing and fluorescent vest then, coincidentally) and "up-yours dick-wad" to those who move deliberately to stop me filtering. What's that about? Even on my worst days out in the Alpha I wouldn't obstruct a bike unless just before the lights where they'd only slow me up if they got through.

Anyway, Mat H put in a sighting report of me at the Shepherd and Flock roundabout and at that point I was feeling pretty relaxed and just gauging my timing between the traffic lines to take advantage of those drivers I like and time for those I don't.

As we finished off the A31 stretch I looked South into a melee of clouds and rain shadows and hoped they were going East or West as fast as the wind liked. Unfortunately I had to pass right under them. Boy was it torrential! First my visor got smudged up because of the spray from other vehicles, then a lorry went by the car in front and I and doused us each in about 1000-gallons of water mixed with road kill, and then the car in front went REALLY slowly, but I couldn't over take because the water was standing on the road in a freak puddle of about an inch depth.

I realised the car was going slowly because its wipers were going ten to the dozen but they still couldn't see for the ferocity of the rain drops. I, on the other hand, although I had water drop on my visor, could still see well enough - if not better than they could.

"Rain Storm" from Asure Globe

The jacket gave way after a few miles of this: letting water in at the stitching around the outer shoulder na along the vent zip seals along the forearms. Fair dincum, though, I could really feel the weight of the rain drops - this was no light Summer shower! The trousers, on the other hand are completely water tight - even around the seat of my arse where I sit in a puddle formed in the seat by my modest curves. Water ran down my arms (inside and out) and into my gloves and, worst of all, water dripped if not flowed off the back of my helmet down my neck despite the ruff being well positioned for it not to.

I enjoyed the experience though - I've always like testing stuff and it was on the way home to a potential hot bath if things got really unpleasant. Most of all though, I have so much more confidence in the wet with Dilbert than I ever mustered on Phut-Phut. I cruised at 50mph and only slowed sensibly for the "S's" at Warnford and the waterworks, where I slow generally to 40mph anyway so I can brake in my sight distance if necessary. I was quite please, reasonable comfortable, and was likely the only one out there today with a big broad Cheshire-cat smile across my grid.

By Wycombe, the worst was well over and I could feel the air flow drying me out a little. By the time I had entered and exited the M27 the Sun was bright and warmed me up through the long filter to the garage. 8.25 Litres for the day's commute; £10.60-odd (thieving daylight robbers and that bastard PM.) Worst, everyone from Fareham to Gosport was wearing strict Summer garb; t-shirts, sandals, and hot-pants. I was dressed to the nines and dripping. No fair!

When I got off the bike in the driveway Mrs G came out to help with my gear and looked down between my legs and couldn't stop giggling; where the double fly assembly folds at the crotch water must have collected in the "tongue" arrangement behind the Velcro and zipper fly and then emptied via the base of the zip. There I was standing in my driveway and looking like I was taking a casual piss. I wasn't allowed in the house until my bladder was empty, either.

At least my pants were dry but I didn't fancy showing that to the neighbours and casual passers by just to explain why Mrs G had exclaimed, loudly enough for the population of Ryde to hear, "Are you're taking a piss, Darling?!" It's not like they would understand I'd just been rained on while whinging about tis week's draught.

Popular example of wet gusset embarrassment

At least I could prove my uric fidelity to my kids...not that I make a habit of flashing my underware at them, but some things have to be done just to keep hold of some dignity!