I had five minutes before I had to hop on the bike this morning, navigate the sleepy streets of Hummerville, and make my 8:16 train.

I sat with Little G as we set up yet another “Big Car Party,” which sees 8-10 of his larger cars and trucks (White Hummer, Green Monster Truck, Kitty Cat Car [don’t ask]) arranged in a circle, talking about Big Car/Truck things (bad gas mileage, their mutual irritation with small cars and light trucks).

The skies darkened. The Missus suggested I hit the road a little early to avoid potential rain. I considered the suggestion and kept playing.

The skies darkened some more, and it looked as though the clouds were about to burst. I said my quick good byes and bolted the Big Car Party.

A drizzle fell as I stepped outside.

“Do you want a jacket?” The Missus asked.

“No,” I said, reasoning that I could beat the heavy rain in the time it took to retrieve a jacket from the front closet.

Just as I exited the driveway, the hard stuff came. Large drops soaked my shirt and pants. Puddled water kicked up off my back tire and soaked my ass, which is a wonderfully fresh feeling with which to start the day.

Twice I jammed on the brakes as I decided to return home, my wet brakes squealing loudly and unpleasantly. Twice I decided to forge ahead.

The rain actually slowed back to a drizzle within a minute, but I was good and soaked.

I pulled into the station parking lot and, for the first time since pestering Town Hall for a bike rack, opted for one of the makeshift spots under the overpass to provide a little shelter for my graphite horse.

I’d forgotten about the giant puddle–aspiring Great Lake, more like it–in front of the overpass and felt the water soak through my left shoe.

With a wet shirt, soaked ass and drenched left foot, I stepped onto the 8:16–the A.C. a constant reminder of every drop of water touching my skin.

Unlike White Hummer and Green Monster Truck, at least I’d saved a few pennies on gas.