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| "Fuck that!" |
"Fuck that!"
That's the usual response when I invite someone to join me on a bike ride through Old Town Key West in the rain. I used to be the same way. Maybe worse. Rain was ruining my life.
When I operated the Ghost Tours, rain was the enemy. I started each day checking out weather reports in the local paper. Throughout the afternoon I'd consult 'Weather on the Ones' and spend hours evaluating local radar with a dial-up Internet connection. The Florida Keys are one of those places where weather prediction is hit or miss. Tiny specs of land hide in a huge body of water where storms seem to have a mind of their own and refuse to abide by any rules of logic. My grandmother used to dance in the rain. "It's good for your skin." she'd tell me. I thought about her advice and decided I'd never watch another weather report again.
Afternoon showers were the norm when I moved to Key West. Each summer day would bring an hour or two of precipitation and I'd find myself seeking shelter under street side awnings, the occasional bar and more than a few stranger's front porches. There was a hippie girl I saw on a few occasions who pedaled through the rain without a care in the world. Water spit up from her fender-less tires spraying a dark line of road soup that ascended from the bicycle seat to her neck like a raccoon's tail. Hair matted to her face under the weight of the condensation and her shirt did little to hide here slender frame. Behind the matted hair was a smile wider than the Gulf of Mexico and a gleam in each eye that sparkled as she rode by. You could almost hear her eyes whispering, sharing the secret joy she had discovered and inviting everyone to come along for the ride. I decided to give it a try.
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| Not my chest unfortunately. |
The rain was cool and, believe it or not, wet. I cringed for a moment - an adjustment period, much like the moments before submerging your private parts in a cold lake or hot bath. Rain soaked my shirt as I passed the Custom House. The tires emitted a high pitched zip as they spit water on my legs and back. Tourists huddled in the doorway of Sloppy Joe's and beneath the awning of a neighboring store, several of them pointing, others laughing or smiling at the guy pedaling down Duval Street like a madman, eyes squinted, hosting a one man wet t-shirt contest. By the time I reached Caroline Street I realized it's best not to hurry in the rain.
Through the years I became a pro. One hand steered my water bike through the pothole-ridden streets while the other slicked hair back from my face or waved to groups of huddled tourists. I knew which streets flooded and sought them out to make wakes. I developed my own little style of wringing my shirt out, which was more of an attention getter than anything else. I adopted the ideal speed of 4 to 6 miles per hour ensuring I would avoid the eye-sting that accompanies higher speeds. When each ride ended I relished the routine of stripping down to nothing. A trail of soaked clothes littering the hallway, living room and kitchen and a trail of water ending by the towel rack. The chemically treated water from the shower took on an artificial feel.
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| Willllmmaaa! |
When Hurricane Wilma came to town I decided to hit the streets. I lived in a small house on Thompson Lane behind L. Valladares & Sons News Stand. Some friends were with the media at the La Concha Hotel and called to say they had wine. Catherine Street was still, but Duval Street was gusting. I straddled my bike and, without a single pedal, cruised down Duval Street propelled by nothing but gusts of wind and rain. The street was empty. No cars. No people. Just me and my bike rocketing along with gusts of 30 to 40 miles per hour in the rain. It was a high point in my rain riding career and I rode that rain right down to the Gulf of Mexico. I probably would have kept going if there wasn't wine waiting back at the La Concha.
In The Key West Bucket List, riding a bike in the rain is accompanied by a quote from Anna Lee: "Remember, even though the outside world might be raining, if you keep on smiling, the sun will soon shine it's face and smile back at you."
The sun certainly does smile back at us in the Florida Keys. And if you happen to glance at the ground while crossing this one off of your Key West Bucket List, you will find that the rain smiles back at us too.
