Riding In The Rain With The Book In The Can, by Matthew Biberman:

(View entire post here)

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.

As I rode I felt terrible regret that I had not really written well in my book about what it is like to ride in rain. The strange halos that appear around vehicles, and the way water rivulets hang from your face shield. I always ride with mine up in the rain and use it as a kind of visor, counting instead on my glasses for adequate visibility. I never try to wipe my glasses-at that point you might as well pull over and wait it out. It's best to stare through the water. I drink the rain as I ride and feel refreshed.

Waiting at stoplights, I stare at the road and admire how it blooms brilliant oil drip patterns-psychedelic blue and pink. Leather runs in the rain and I know my hands will emerge from my gloves stained black. But the book is in the can. Did I make it as good as I could? If I get wiped out by the next car, is it ok because the book is out of my hands?

When I arrived home I felt real relief. There is nothing like returning safe and sound in the pouring rain on a motorcycle. I wiped down my bike, turned my jacket inside out to dry, and went in to scrub my blackened hands.

Matthew Biberman, Big Sid's Vincanti, motorcycle, memoir, Penguin Books