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a need for fenders
Tuesday, December 1 1998
The day began a lot less foggy than usual, seeming to belie dire predictions of storm and rain. Blue skies held out until about lunchtime, but then big grey clouds began marching in from the Pacific Ocean. I ate my lunch next to the trolley tracks watching the clouds, feeling calmly energized and peaceful, like a cigarette makes me feel on the rare occasions when I smoke them. Work, as usual, had been demanding but engrossing, and reflecting on just the accomplishments of the morning gave me pride.
It was nothing like my idea of a "storm" but there was still a light rain falling as I started my ride home. It didn't look like any big deal by eastern standards, but I was mistaken to take it so lightly. For one thing, the water on the streets was a lot dirtier than eastern runoff; it contained the dissolved patina of a whole dry season after all. Furthermore, drainage from the highways wasn't especially good and pools were plentiful. Worst of all was the behaviour of my bicycle. It has no fenders at all, and water coming off the wheels painted a solid dorsal stripe of sand and grim on my body: stretching from the top of my head down to the crack of my ass.
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