I really need to start looking at the forecasts more closely.
From our place, we have a good view looking north. Not so good looking south. I got up, looked north and saw plenty of blue sky. Decided it was a day for summer riding gear.
Got out the door, round the block and suddenly I could see to the north. Huge, black, menacing storm clouds were rolling towards the city. Decision making time - do a U-turn and collect some wet weather gear, or race the clouds into the city.
There's no choice really - I raced the clouds. What am I - a flippin' grandpa? I am not Kevin Rudd, always ready to flip-flop between decisions before taking the soft option. Once I am moving forward, I keep moving forward.
I just about froze my nads off going down some of the steeper hills - the wind chill was a lot nastier than usual. The result was that my balls ached all day at work - felt like I'd had a mild kick to the nuts. I did beat the rain - a few drops started coming down when I reached the office, and that was it. Victory!
Getting into work did involve being told off by a pedestrian who didn't like the path our line of half a dozen bikes took over the Pyrmont Bridge. She yelled that her particular spot was pedestrian only - I'm not sure who died and made her God. The bridge is about 50 feet wide. All we cyclists need is a lane 3-4 feet wide. Pedestrians can have 46 feet of the bride - 90% of it - if we can have our little slot. But no, the pedestrian walk hither and thither and utterly fail to keep left, so we snake across the bridge like a drunken python, picking gaps where we can find them.
Speaking of picking gaps - try to pick a gap in this lovely thunderstorm.
I was lucky - I bailed early and beat it home. That red spot in the middle is just about over our house. The rain came down so hard at one point, I could not see the house next door. Then we got a light smattering of pea sized hail, which melted within a minute. Riding through that would not have been much fun without a jacket, and my jacket was hanging in the closet due to my bloody-minded attitude at sparrow fart. If I had left the office at 5pm with all the other wage slaves, I would have been utterly rooted. Knowing my luck, I would have been right in the middle of the Anzac Bridge when it started coming down - with no shelter for half a mile in either direction.
Some days, it pays to be lucky rather than good.