By Joe Sokohl
He’s a rider in the rain
He’s a rider in the rain
And I’m goin’ to Arizona
Just a rider in the rain
– Randy Newman,
“Rider in the Rain,” Little Criminals
Rain.
As riders, we all have various kryptonates, those things that terrify us as riders. Ice, snow, gravel, traffic, wind, or a tractor-trailer dumping a load of marbles on the interstate after smashing into a dump truck full of manure. Of all the conditions we encounter, rain comes up more frequently as that thing we don’t want to risk.
Some facts support some fear:
› Wet pavement has less traction than dry pavement.
› Visibility decreases for both rider and car drivers.
› Getting wet increases the chances of ride-impairing discomfort and even hypothermia.
We know this. As sport-touring riders, we travel into all kinds of weather, all sorts of situations. We mitigate risk through ATGATT, through road-rash-resistant gear, through avoidance of substances that impair judgment. And we often find ourselves fearing riding in rain.
Interestingly, science and behavior and technology mitigate these facts:
› Clean wet pavement has about 80% of the traction that dry pavement does.
So waiting a bit to ride until the initial rain washes off the accumulated oils that come into play reduces this risk.
› Rain tends to shed off face shields at speed.
› Wearing good-quality rain gear and dressing in layers eliminates discomfort and danger of getting wet.
Granted, when you ride in the rain, you need to increase following distances, pay more attention to traffic, and avoid booze. Yet despite these mitigations, we still dread the coming of the rains.
I have found my rhythm in rain. Whether riding US 33 West to a STAR in Canaan Valley, West Virginia, in a pouring rain or sitting on I-81 during the first part of an Iron Butt Eggsanity attempt as rain patters on my helmet, I really don’t mind riding in it. Indeed, Randy Newman’s sardonic song about a wayward cowboy often plays an earworm as rain ricochets off my windshield and spreads running rivulets
across my face shield. Richard Betts’ “Rain” from his only solo album also comforts me as he sings, “Rain, rain, rain/Sing your song to me/It won’t be long till morning light.” There’s something calming in a way about how rain comforts me. My senses first become highly alert, then I relax into almost a cocoon of water.
I know it sounds strange, but I’ve heard from other riders that they feel that way, too. As long as their Aerostich, Klim, REV’IT! or FroggToggs hold, they don’t mind too much that trip through a summer shower. With ever-better weather apps at my fingertips, I often route around or sometimes between storms. Yet too much dependence on weather prediction can sometimes mean you miss an event because you thought it was going to storm. As my grandfather said, “Today is the tomorrow that we worried about yesterday…and it didn’t happen.” So preparing is fine, as long as you also just…scan the skies.
Wind though is more of my kryptonite. And lightning. After all, as riders we’re simply lighting rods hurtling down the highway. Cars have cages (that’s why we call ‘em cages, after all); we don’t. Add those two together, and you can forget about me joining you in a jaunt down the Back of the Dragon. Combine the uncertainty of rain with the relentless pressure of wind that can gust from unforeseen directions, and I’ll have a level of terror beyond the last two minutes of The Blair Witch Project. So when I’m on the road and see that thunderstorms or even tornadoes are predicted, I look for someplace to hunker down, as blues singer (and my one-time boss) Bill Blue sang. “You better run, boys/That storm gonna blow you away.”
Coming back from the Iron Butt Association dinner in March, my brother Ray and I found pre-spring thunderstorms moving directly across our necessary line of travel. Beautiful Florida weather gave way in South Georgia to a line of wicked storms. Just before the storms hit, we found refuge inside LL Creek Bar and Grill in Waycross, Georgia. We ate delicious BBQ and salads and drank copious amounts of Diet Coke as we watched sheets of rain waterfall from the darkened skies. We listened to everyone’s phones alerting as tornado warnings screamed at us to pay attention. We updated weather maps almost minute by minute. When it seemed there might be a gap in storms, Ray and I suited up, struggling into our REV’IT! and Klim gear inside the restaurant as nimbly as those inconvenient garments would allow. Jumping on the bikes, we threaded our way northwest, warily watching the horizon for funnel clouds while we counter steered against wind gusts. Despite some factor of puckering, we quickly pushed through the storms, congratulating ourselves on our perspicuity. Or maybe just dumb luck.
Sometimes that too is all you need when you’re a rider in the rain.