Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Oh the weather outside
I want to be a weatherman. Its the perfect job. You can be wrong when it counts and you won't get fired. People will still tune in and listen to what you say. They'll plan their day around what you say.
When it comes to weather forecasts I think the majority of us only require something that's in the ball park. When the weatherman says "hey, it's going to be sunny all day" and then a few clouds roll by we're not going to get too upset. Even if a short little rain cloud passes by we're still good.
Truth is most of the year we don't care. Those few days a year when the weather gets real nasty is when we care. And all we ask for is something in the ball park.
Recently the weatherman called for 1 to 3 inches of snow and it ended up sunny and in the high 30's to low 40's without a flake to be found. The weatherman missed the ball park.
When it comes to riding with a bunch of 1 to 3 ton vehicles being piloted by some tool who's drinking coffee and chatting on the phone when there's snow and ice and gloom of dawn I'm expecting them to at least turn their lights on. I'm in that ball park. I got my lights blazing.
In the last week I've counted 4 bikers who were riding in the road at dawn without any lights at all. None. This isn't on some deserted country lane, this is on a main artery into town. There be cars. Lots of them.
Now, my personal morning fog is as thick as the next blokes. I could speak if I had to but I would rather not. Going down stairs is puzzling. I could use some help with my socks and my shoes.
But I've never been so out of it that I managed to find my darkest clothes, mount my steed, ignore the lights and head out into traffic.
Cloudy dark wintry mornings are no time to go all ninja. You want to be a team player. Some kind of survival instinct should cut through the fog and takes care of this ball park thing. If it's not then the road ain't no place for ya.