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I walked across the University of Louisville campus, reviewing what I would say about John Milton when I noticed that it was raining just a few drops. I looked up and the sky seemed only slightly moist. The overcast clouds were a billowy slate gray and though I had clearly bet wrong to ride to work on my Honda Hawk GT, I wasn't alarmed. I thought I was looking at a slight drizzle, one perhaps short enough to wait out.
An hour later, when I emerged from class, it was pouring. I stood under the building's overhang, recommending titles to a student interested in Milton's politics and his jail time. Then I ran from building to building to get back to my office to avoid the rain, with the intention of checking my email and consulting the local weather radar.
The note from my editor at Hudson Street Press was short and stated--almost as if in passing---that she had printed out my memoir and shipped it off to copy editing. Then I checked the weather and saw that it looked like if I left soon, I might be able to ride in between two waves of the front and avoid the rain.
I exited the building in a slight mist. Walking to my bike, I began to look forward to the ride. Slick streets are dangerous but better than riding through a real down pour. Worse yet, I had no rain gear with me.
When I pulled away, I felt soothed by the distinct sound a bike makes with wet wheels. Somehow in the rain, everything seems sharper. Then before I knew it, I was riding into heavy rain.
















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