An Irish morn…

The weatherman got it wrong… very wrong. It was suppose to be a warm sunny Saturday morning, and instead we left for our ride in a cold, misty fog. Barely able to see 10 feet in front of us, I was concerned about the cars and their ability to see us.  Thankfully, not many people were out on the road.  

As we headed to Goodwood again, the normal chit-chat was kept to a minimum. We held a tight single-file formation, riding cautiously, not tempting fate. I felt a little sheepish. I had pushed for an outside ride today, claiming that the weather was going to be “awesome”. I even teased some of the members of our group for bailing last week, taunting them into coming out this week.

What an awful morning, but no one complained. So hungry was everyone to get out on the road, that they kept their moaning to themselves. Our streets have not yet been cleaned from the winter, so the mud and stones flicked up into our faces. Barely able to see, I ditched the sunglass that were protecting my eyes from the flying debris.

Happy to be out with the old gang again.

When we got to the bakery, Marc’s face was covered in mud. Clearly he needs to spend more time in the front (LOL, just teasing Marc). We cheered each other up kidding around and telling jokes, hoping that the when we were through the Irish-like weather would have passed. But, it didn’t… and our damp clothes pressed against our skin, making it even more uncomfortable for the return ride.  As we neared home-base, Judy yelled out that she had a flat – uhh, a perfect finish to a “perfect” ride. It wasn’t like last week, but I’m happy to be with the old gang again. No matter the weather.