We had our rain gear on because we had earlier looked at the forecast and knew we weren't going to miss the big storm that was brewing.  I was in the lead, and Ric followed, promising to keep the traffic off me if the rain became heavy.  As you might guess, it became heavy.  I slowed down to a safe speed, gripped the handlebars tightly, and prayed.  I fervently scanned the highway for traffic and other hazards.  The rain was coming down in torrents.  My glasses were filled with rain drops, and I was forced to use my gloved hands as mini windshield wipers for the lenses.  My body was stiff, and the fear permeated my soul.  I was going slower than most of the other traffic, and each time a car or truck passed me, a large deluge of water was thrown over me causing a temporary blindness.  I visualized my motorcycle sliding off the road, running into the back of an eighteen wheeler or being slammed from behind by a vehicle.  I visualized the ambulance services arrival and the hurried assistance provided by the attendant; I even imagined the whirl of the helicopter blades as it landed in the highway median to rescue the downed riders and transport us to the  hospital.  My self confidence was at an all time low and I seriously thought about my life coming to an end on this lonely stretch of highway.

     I looked ahead in hopes of seeing an overpass, but when one finally appeared, it was too late; I couldn't safely slow down in time to stop, so I doggedly trudged forward.  About a mile down the road, my heart began to lift and my body became less tense as I saw a sign for an exit.  I was getting cold, and at this most inopportune time, the elastic on my rain gear slipped up over my boots and water began to slosh around my feet.  I signaled a right and turned off at the exit where I saw a trucker standing beside his rig, also waiting out the storm.  But to my dismay, there wasn’t any shelter.  At this point, I didn't care; I just wanted to quit riding and gather my wits about me.  I put my kickstand down and got off the bike, placing my foot in a newly developed mud puddle and nearly fell over, but at the last second regained my stature.  We stood in a downpour beside our bikes for almost ten minutes, Ric chastising me the entire time, “don’t ever stop where there is not any shelter”, he said over and over again.  I just hung my head and murmured, “I know, I know”.  Suddenly the rain stopped.  We knew it wasn't over yet, but I was grateful for the interlude.  We were both soaking wet, cold and shivering; this was one instance in which rain gear wasn't enough.  One thing I’ve certainly learned on my own is that rain gear will keep you dry under minimal inclement weather circumstances, but nothing can effectively keep you that way during a relentless downpour.  Reluctantly, I got back on the bike and we merged onto the Interstate once again.  To my elation, there was another exit only a mile away, and it had a sign for gas.  To my dismay, I realized I could have ridden for two more minutes and avoided standing in the rain for ten.  Still, grateful for the shelter, I pulled over and we got coffee, while trying to wring out our clothes in preparation of finishing the trip in the rain.  While at the stop, the storm returned with as much vengeance as ever, and I really didn’t want to get back on the bike, although common sense told me that I had no choice, and Ric reassured me that I had enough training and miles on the road to be able to handle it.  He coaxed me into going, but I promise you, I wasn't happy about it.

     My next experience with bad weather was on our trip to Myrtle Beach in the summer of 2006.  I was so anticipating the trip; I had ten glorious days of vacation time to spend, and the day of our departure finally arrived.  I looked outside and saw gray skies, and flipped to the weather channel which revealed the threat of rain throughout the day.  I’ve learned, although I don’t like it, to never start out in the rain if you don’t have to.  The most dangerous time to ride is when the rain first comes down and the oil from vehicles is slick.  Experts say you should wait at least 20 minutes after the rain starts to allow ample time for the oil to dissipate.  We didn’t start out in the rain, but were fairly certain that we would encounter it.  Forewarned that the threat of rain was imminent, we left Shreveport just after noon, and by two o'clock, the four of us could be seen at a gas station, donning rain gear and preparing to ride through what would be the worst storm any of us had ever experienced on two wheels.    It made my previously recounted encounter with the rain look like child’s play.  Again, this wasn’t just any rain.  No, we were  about to ride right into a severe weather front that was producing strong winds and even sporadic tornadoes.  By the time we got to Meridian, Mississippi and stopped for dinner at the restaurant, Ruby Tuesday’s, the storm was in full force.  We watched the weather news on the large screen televisions and saw nothing but red patches on the radar.  There were tornado warnings scrolling across the screen and reports of tornado sightings and touchdowns.  It was a Wednesday evening, and there were reports of church services being canceled, and warnings to “stay inside and take cover”.

(cont.)