After I finished this morning's post, I went out to start cutting the grass, and saw the sky to the west looking all ominous and grey. So I came back in, checked the weather radar, and went back outside to cut the grass.
As a safety measure I cut the front yard first; then went out back and cut the east-most half of the East 40. I then worked my way west: the western half of the East 40, then the back yard.
Western sky: still ominous. Still no rain, though, so I got out the pusher and did the parts I can't get the tractor into.
Finished, put everything away, congratulated myself; and about half an hour later, it rained. Whee!
In fact, the sky overhead got dark and rain began falling about the time I was going to work on making a pot of goulash. Green peppers were on sale ($0.99 per pound) so I grabbed a trio of them; but I'd forgotten to pick up a loaf of Ginzo bread. I mulled making some bread in the bread machine, but with the weather going on--well, if the power cut out, the bread would be ruined. (The goulash, I could just dump that into the dutch oven and throw it on the grill or something if the power stayed off too long; even if the juice was down for ten minutes it wouldn't really matter. But the bread machine is computerized and will forget what it was doing if the power goes off for a couple seconds.)
So I thought, "Well, I can ride the motorcycle to Walt's for Ginzo bread, can't I? And if the roads are wet I'll just take the truck. Who cares?"
Fast-forward a couple hours--the roads were pretty well dry. I sauteed the green peppers and put them in the goulash, then kitted up and got on the bike.
I actually took the long way 'round: I went west on Exchange to Stuenkel, further west to the RaceCo gas station, where I tanked up. Then I went south on 50 to Pauling, east on Pauling to I394, and then north on 394 to Exchange.
...at 65 miles an hour.
That's the fastest I've gone on a motorcycle. On a previous ride I'd thought about getting on I-57 for a stretch but that's a 65 MPH zone and I didn't fancy riding at 65 my first time with a shitton of asshats around me.
Once I was comfortable, I rolled on more power and got the engine running at 6,000 RPM, which is approaching 70 MPH on that bike. The engine is screaming like a banshee at that point, but not an unhappy banshee. It actually sounded kind of content: Ah, a chance to stretch my legs! And that's still 3,000 RPM short of its redline. Shit.
But throughout this trip (except when I was eastbound, which made it impossible) I kept looking at the ominous darkening of the western sky. I'd checked the radar before leaving, and it showed no approaching storms, but those clouds....
Well, got to Walt's without getting wet, went inside and got my bread...and got behind this fucking RETARD on the way home who was going 35 in a 50 zone. WTF.
Despite his best efforts, though, I got home without getting rained on. Not that it would have been all that big a deal; I was thinking, "Well, if it rains, guess what? I'll get wet! ZOMGWTFBBQ!!!" I mean, it's not like I'd melt. But it would mean having to polish the bike again once it had dried off. (Stupid water spots.)
...but I got home and got the bike in the garage, and so forth--and it has not yet begun to rain, though it's about to.
And the goulash smells delicious. I'm going to feed in just a little while....