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luddite
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Discussion Starter · #1 ·
one of my rare days off without the kids yesterday. so it was raining like a cow pissing on a flat rock... well i'm gonna ride anyway. No pics cos it was too wet to get me thingy out (?!) but this was my ride back from Dijon.

It's been years since I rode in the rain, I mean real rain. These days I have the choice to take a car, but riding yesterday took me right back...


Real rain, the sort that first appears on the horizon in the form of a long low black cloud, right across the valley the road follows. The sort of rain that insinuates it's way into even the best quality rain gear, drops the ambient temperature 10° in 30 seconds, reduces visibility to 50metres & renders the white lines on the road as slippery as a slide rail on the sliding park in slipsville...


As you get closer, you realise that it is right across the autoroute, a black rampart supported from below by a white wall... you can see the line across the carriageway, the wall of falling water bouncing back to a foot high. The initial shock as you ride into the wall, the drops battering you from above & your front wheel bow wave soaking you from below. Ease off the throttle, don't touch the brakes, hunker down, legs in tight to the machine, elbows in & concentrate on the line, front ends gone a bit vague, just deal with it, nowhere to shelter so just accept the cold, the damp seeping in down the back of your neck & through at the elbows & knees. overtaking trucks throwing up huge clouds of water completely obscuring the road ahead & always keeping one eye one the left mirror, become almost useless with droplets of filthy road water, for the nutter in a BM who doesn't consider it neccessary to slow down from his usual 150k/h because nobody has the right to be in his way...

for 120k

an hour of that & home at last

waterproof trousers over the hall radiator, soaked boots on the mat, jacket on the back of the kitchen chair, helmet & gloves on the draining board in the kitchen& a trail of wet sock footprints to a comfy chair, via the coffee pot. Each item of clothing dripping into it's own pool of dirty water on the floor & giving of a delicat odor of damp biker. Me in the chair with a hot coffee & an idiot grin...


For an hour, on the road, in the storm, I was just me, concentrated on the moment, alone & whole.


and it was good.
 

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In my experience France is always like this!

Just ask stormforce8 as this was our shared experience down to Italy and back last year. It pretty much rained constantly as we got off the Chunnel and all the way down to the Jura Mountains North of Geneva. Jon's quote would be "Biblical"!

We then enter Italy and it was lovely blue skies and sunshine :-D
 

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one-legged member
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This was the storm brewing over Mont Ventoux last week (as seen from my tent), three times we exited our tents only to be beaten back by thunder and lightening :toothy9:

France June 2012 066.jpg France June 2012 067.jpg

and when we did get out on the trail we got all of 5 miles before the heavens opened again.

This is what Steve thought of it .....

France June 2012 068.jpg France June 2012 069.jpg
 

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Great write-up Moon. I guess we've all had those journeys. Like so many things they're great when they stop:thumbup:
 
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