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This summer has been the worst drought here in 25 years. No rain for months. But the day I need to go somewhere on my bike large thunderstorms and heavy rain appeared out of nowhere. A day or two ago they were calling for sun today!
Am I the only one this happens to?
Probably not: The old time motorcyclists used to fear the god of Rain whenever they planned a hillclimb or other event that would inevitably be washed out. Hap Jameson dubbed him "Jupiter Pluvius" -- the "god of the sky, thunder, and storms" -- back in the 1920s and 30s glory years of hillclimbing. Maybe Hap got it from reading Harley-Davidson's bound volumes of archival motorcycle magazines from the Golden Age of the 1910s, because I have also seen the term in print back then. But of course since Hap was a rider in the teens (started riding around 1909), he may as well have recalled the term from his early years.
So here I am killing time. Bike all ready (1976 BMW R75/6). My riding clothes laid out. My boots polished and waxed. My leather jacket hanging there. Long underwear packed just in case. But I can hear the rumble of thunder and the radar shows a band of heavy rain approaching from the west. Once that goes past hopefully I shall be able to venture out of here.
You guys up near Minneapolis ever hear of "Rainmaker" Hansen? He was a very early motorcycle racer and before that a bicycle racer. In 1902 (?) he made America's first 24 hour endurance event on a Mitchell motorcycle built in my hometown of Racine, Wis. I think that 24 event was done in Chicago, but there were other good stories about Hansen and how he got the nickname "Rainmaker."
During races around Minneapolis the sky would suddenly grow dark when he came out upon the race track and the heavens would burst open. Not just rain, but torrential downpours that would wash bridges out. But he would keep riding thru it all. I think it even rained hard during the 24 hour run. "Rainmaker" Hansen was an early great, but now long forgotten. Doubtful he'll ever make it into the Motorcycle Hall of Fame although guys like him truly deserve it.
I know, I know, I'm a chicken. A "real" biker would just ride out into the storm, eh? I've done that too. The worst I can remember was getting caught in 40 degree temps on the Milwaukee freeway during rush hour in a blinding downpour with cars whizzing past me at 70 mph and me totally blinded by the rain. I just stuck to the glowing tail lights ahead of me and held a death grip on the handlebar. Somehow I managed to exit at 7 Mile Road amazed that I was still alive.
During the Harley 95th (93rd?) out in LaCrosse I was helping. That's when Will Harley and I met Armando Magri. I think he since passed away. Cool old dude. Of course the next morning when everyone was going to ride back to Milwaukee it was raining and raining hard. I had brought my BMW up under the front canopy of the motel where people were hanging out trying to decide what to do. It sort of looked out of place beside all those Harleys but it didn't care.
Raining harder now. Morning slipping past...
So anyway, most of those Harley guys decided to leave en masse. Me, I looked at the sky and what Hap might have said, then thought of the nice warm swimming pool in the motel and declined the honor of joining them. When I remarked that leaving in a downpour was stupid some big shot looked at me like I was a cockroach. Still, I didn't much feel like being part of that massive herd on a rainy slick freeway and there was in fact an accident before they reached Milwaukee.
Darn...I'll have eaten up all the chocolate bar I was supposed to bring with me for the road. I might as well eat this banana too.
Descretion being the better part of valor I spent the next couple of hours in the pool and hot tub fortifying myself for the wet ride as the rain kept coming. But then it trickled down to a point where even chicken me decided that a little rain was better then dying of boredom in LaCrosse. So I spanked leather (vinyl really) and headed out. Like a miracle the rain tapered off before I had reached the freeway altho the sky was a dark dreary leaden color and any second I expected it to rain buckets.
Once on the open road it was still wet but nothing was coming down so I spanked it. Cool dark days like that make you want to reach your destination fast. And with those BMW cylinders stuck out where they catch the cooling road mist the bike runs its best. Pretty soon the cars had beaten a dry track for me. That was the day I passed HUNDREDS and HUNDREDS of Harleys on my little "45 cubic inch" Beemer. They seemed almost to be standing still by comparison. There were sure a lot of them all headed to the big celebration in Milwaukee and I flew past them trying to beat the rain. That day I didn't get passed by one bike and very few cars. One thing about the BMW engine: The faster you go, the smoother it gets. Of course the BMW doesn't look cool like a Harley. Kind of dorky by comparison, and it is awfully quiet. People don't even hear you pull up, which they often remark upon.
I hardly ever go thru Milwaukee but get off I-94 around Dousman and take Hwy-67 thru Eagle and then east again. I think I made it all the way to I-94 again before the rain and wind hit. But by then I was too close to home to care. I took side roads and enjoyed the last few miles knowing the journey was near it's end so I had a taste of being a "real" biker afterall.
Rain seems to be stopping. Adios amigos!
===================
The great adventure starts here!
At the Creation
Am I the only one this happens to?
Probably not: The old time motorcyclists used to fear the god of Rain whenever they planned a hillclimb or other event that would inevitably be washed out. Hap Jameson dubbed him "Jupiter Pluvius" -- the "god of the sky, thunder, and storms" -- back in the 1920s and 30s glory years of hillclimbing. Maybe Hap got it from reading Harley-Davidson's bound volumes of archival motorcycle magazines from the Golden Age of the 1910s, because I have also seen the term in print back then. But of course since Hap was a rider in the teens (started riding around 1909), he may as well have recalled the term from his early years.
So here I am killing time. Bike all ready (1976 BMW R75/6). My riding clothes laid out. My boots polished and waxed. My leather jacket hanging there. Long underwear packed just in case. But I can hear the rumble of thunder and the radar shows a band of heavy rain approaching from the west. Once that goes past hopefully I shall be able to venture out of here.
You guys up near Minneapolis ever hear of "Rainmaker" Hansen? He was a very early motorcycle racer and before that a bicycle racer. In 1902 (?) he made America's first 24 hour endurance event on a Mitchell motorcycle built in my hometown of Racine, Wis. I think that 24 event was done in Chicago, but there were other good stories about Hansen and how he got the nickname "Rainmaker."
During races around Minneapolis the sky would suddenly grow dark when he came out upon the race track and the heavens would burst open. Not just rain, but torrential downpours that would wash bridges out. But he would keep riding thru it all. I think it even rained hard during the 24 hour run. "Rainmaker" Hansen was an early great, but now long forgotten. Doubtful he'll ever make it into the Motorcycle Hall of Fame although guys like him truly deserve it.
I know, I know, I'm a chicken. A "real" biker would just ride out into the storm, eh? I've done that too. The worst I can remember was getting caught in 40 degree temps on the Milwaukee freeway during rush hour in a blinding downpour with cars whizzing past me at 70 mph and me totally blinded by the rain. I just stuck to the glowing tail lights ahead of me and held a death grip on the handlebar. Somehow I managed to exit at 7 Mile Road amazed that I was still alive.
During the Harley 95th (93rd?) out in LaCrosse I was helping. That's when Will Harley and I met Armando Magri. I think he since passed away. Cool old dude. Of course the next morning when everyone was going to ride back to Milwaukee it was raining and raining hard. I had brought my BMW up under the front canopy of the motel where people were hanging out trying to decide what to do. It sort of looked out of place beside all those Harleys but it didn't care.
Raining harder now. Morning slipping past...
So anyway, most of those Harley guys decided to leave en masse. Me, I looked at the sky and what Hap might have said, then thought of the nice warm swimming pool in the motel and declined the honor of joining them. When I remarked that leaving in a downpour was stupid some big shot looked at me like I was a cockroach. Still, I didn't much feel like being part of that massive herd on a rainy slick freeway and there was in fact an accident before they reached Milwaukee.
Darn...I'll have eaten up all the chocolate bar I was supposed to bring with me for the road. I might as well eat this banana too.
Descretion being the better part of valor I spent the next couple of hours in the pool and hot tub fortifying myself for the wet ride as the rain kept coming. But then it trickled down to a point where even chicken me decided that a little rain was better then dying of boredom in LaCrosse. So I spanked leather (vinyl really) and headed out. Like a miracle the rain tapered off before I had reached the freeway altho the sky was a dark dreary leaden color and any second I expected it to rain buckets.
Once on the open road it was still wet but nothing was coming down so I spanked it. Cool dark days like that make you want to reach your destination fast. And with those BMW cylinders stuck out where they catch the cooling road mist the bike runs its best. Pretty soon the cars had beaten a dry track for me. That was the day I passed HUNDREDS and HUNDREDS of Harleys on my little "45 cubic inch" Beemer. They seemed almost to be standing still by comparison. There were sure a lot of them all headed to the big celebration in Milwaukee and I flew past them trying to beat the rain. That day I didn't get passed by one bike and very few cars. One thing about the BMW engine: The faster you go, the smoother it gets. Of course the BMW doesn't look cool like a Harley. Kind of dorky by comparison, and it is awfully quiet. People don't even hear you pull up, which they often remark upon.
I hardly ever go thru Milwaukee but get off I-94 around Dousman and take Hwy-67 thru Eagle and then east again. I think I made it all the way to I-94 again before the rain and wind hit. But by then I was too close to home to care. I took side roads and enjoyed the last few miles knowing the journey was near it's end so I had a taste of being a "real" biker afterall.
Rain seems to be stopping. Adios amigos!
===================
The great adventure starts here!
At the Creation
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