This ride report is for our buddy Bob Howell, who left us "standing in the rain". As far as we could tell, the early morning fog was clearing (until Bob showed up). Diane quickly covered her head with a hood, asking me if the ride was still on. "Why wouldn't it?" I inquired. We were assured that today's weather would bring us sunny skies and 54 degrees. But incredibly, there was Bob standing next to Diane under a huge wet dripping cloud. Rain was falling on them, making puddles on the pavement. Their feet were wet. On one hand I wanted to be prudent; and, on the other, I wanted to ride. But as I got out of the car and handed Bob the sign-in sheet, the rain drops fell on my favorite jacket and smeared the ink on the sign in sheet. With that, Larry Peed saw a dark omen, and sped off in a flash, not even saying "good by." Bob left for home directing me to immediately remove his name from the sign-in sheet.
I looked up at the sky and saw that it was about to clear up, but it seemed like it would be a good idea for Diane to have a chance to dry her feet and sip on coffee in the comfort of Starbucks. We ordered our coffees and watched the heavens dry up, the blue skies appear, and felt the warmth of the sun. Bob's puddles were receding. We were listening to the Blues as we contemplated the ride we were about to take. But then, in came Bob. The sky clouds above and puddles dripping on the Starbucks tables outside.
Bob looked down and saw his name was still crossed off the sign in sheet. He looked at me with silent trepidation and said, "leave it like that." Bob assured us he was going home. We said our Good Byes for a second time.
No sooner did he leave, however, when sun came out. The skies were blue. The weather was warm and only slightly breezy. We rose from our Starbuck seats and mounted our bikes. The tour took off without a hitch. I was accompanied by Lou, Tom1 and Tom2, Linda, Diane, and Lancelot on a Serotta. When we stopped at the light, we saw a trail of huge wet tire tracks obviously imprinted on the pavement by a Big Black Truck driven by a retired electrician. We also saw stream of smoke and sparks trailing down the road. Such was the last vestige of Bob as he sped away. For us there was nothing but the sun on our backs and a blue sky overhead. We rode on, and on, and on thought much of Bob and what the ride would have meant to him. So, until we meet again, let us have a toast to Bob.
