Soaked

When the skies darkened before sunset Wednesday, I knew I was in trouble.

Three miles from home the skies opened up, sending a torrent of rain down onto U.S. 221. soaking me, the Harley and everything around us.

By the time I turned off onto Poor Farm Road, I was soaked. A few minutes later I pulled into the garage with water cascading off the motorcycle and myself. Pools formed on the garage floor. I pulled off my normally waterproof boots and poured water from them. I stripped off my clothes on the landing outside the mud room door and draped the soaking garments on the railing and headed for a hot shower.

Yeah, we need the rain. Just wish it had arrived five minutes later. Had I not stopped to pick up some food for dinner I would have made it home before the deluge.

But I won’t melt.

© 2004-2022 Blue Ridge Muse

© 2021 Blue Ridge Muse