What's this wet stuff falling from the sky?
By Eric Jacobson

When it comes to riding style, I'm more of what veteran motorcyclists call a "weekend warrior." Sure, I use my SVS to get me to work and get me around throughout the week, but I'm not religious about it. When it comes to weather that isn't the right temperature or where there's wet stuff falling from the sky, you might as well write me off. One of the first things I discovered about my bike was that it's missing air conditioning controls. A couple of weeks ago, I realized that it also has no roof.

So, there I am riding home from my office cruising across the several miles of straight, boring superslab that I have to get through before I can get to the twisties that lead to my house. For the record, I have what I've found to be the incredible blessing of living in Western North Carolina's smoky mountains. I live in a small mountain city called Asheville whose biggest claim to fame is that it's consistently ranked as one of the Top Ten Best Locations to Retire. Yeah, tell me about it. So, it's a great place to start a business, and its location in the mountains makes it great to find hilly roads.

By definition, hilly roads are made out of switchbacks, turns, and tight sharp twisties that are downright delightful for motorcycle riding. In addition to this, the famous and sacred Blue Ridge Parkway is just a few miles from my house. Though it's a story for another time, the Blue Ridge Parkway is so popular that I read a feature article in Car & Driver where the writers grabbed a Z3, tore down the Blue Ridge Parkway and stopped by Asheville Die-Cast, a small car model store that's right in town, so you can imagine the kind of riding I'm exposed to if it's attracting major automobile magazine writers. In case you were curious, I'm just telling you all this to make you jealous, it has little to no effect on the rest of the story.

At any rate, back to where I was ' riding down I-240 toward the Blue Ridge Parkway. It was an overcast day which is nothing spectacular for the area. The mountains mess with the meteorological conditions all the time so it's not uncommon to go through almost all of the different kinds of weather patterns in a single day. Clouds, therefore, are a normal occurrence.

But, I was proud of myself. I checked the Weather Channel's website from the office to ensure that I wasn't in danger of getting wet. God Forbid a drop of water touch my bike, or, even worse, me! Now, what I wasn't remembering was my Introduction to Meteorology class from undergrad where we learned two important things: (1) meteorology is an extremely inexact science where they still don't really know what they're doing when it comes to predicting the weather because of the fluidity of the atmosphere and (2) meteorology is even more inexact in locations of the country where mountain ranges are concerned because the airflow over the mountain peaks completely alters the accuracy of any predictions.

Yes, indeed, my meteorology professor would've been very unhappy to see me completely ignore all of my lessons from class that day, though I would've provided a great example for use in future classes.

Alright, so there I am, riding down the freeway and looking ahead 10-seconds or so like I was taught to do in my MSF class. That's when I noticed something ' the pavement 10 seconds ahead looked much darker than the pavement I was currently flying down. Before I had the chance to think "Hey, that dark pavement is kind of strange," I was the victim of a sudden and heavy downpour.

It's important to remember that Asheville is located in the middle of America's equivalence of a rainforest biome. There are a number of sayings that develop from living in a town like Asheville, but the one that most accurately describes the weather is this: "If you don't like the weather in Asheville, wait ten minutes." Obviously, on this day that saying worked against my favor in a great and evil way.

So, now I'm in the middle of rushing water. Spray from the tires of the cars and semi-trucks in front of me are hitting me full-on and all I can find myself thinking is, "Man, am I getting wet!" In fact, I discovered the answer to a question that had been bothering me for a really long time: How wet does the outside of my car really get when driving through rain? The answer: really, really, really wet. Maybe ten seconds after the rain started hitting me, my jeans were drenched. And, of course, it had been just warm enough when I left work that I left my riding jacket unzipped; it wasn't taking me too long to realize exactly how cold the rain was, too.

It's raining. I'm riding. I'm getting wet. And it's going to get worse before it gets better. I'm not too happy about the whole situation. Then, it gets much worse. I begin noticing that all of the characteristics of my SVS that make two-wheeled riding so much fun in good weather make it really, really terrifying when there's any sort of precipitation coming down. The back end of my bike really likes to slip and slide all over the place because of the poorly-tracked rain grooves in North Carolina's highways. Oh boy, this is not good. In addition, the sticky, nearly tread-free compound of the tires that acts like NASCAR slicks in dry weather is virtually worthless when there's a nice inch or two cushion of water between the rubber and the road. At this point, I would've given my left pinky for some really nice touring tires.

A couple of minutes pass and I realize that there's another piece of equipment that I always took for granted on my car that simply doesn't exist on my bike. And, no, it's not the roof though I really wouldn't have minded one of those at this point. It's the windshield wipers. Granted, I'd briefly had experience with this realization while declaring war on the fighting squadrons of flying multi-legged creatures (read: bugs) that populate this mountain region by riding through them. Gloves are not optional for me when it comes to motorcycle safety equipment for how they protect my hands. After riding through bugs, I was really grateful for having worn them because I really didn't want to have to pick off the large, squishy somewhat scary-looking moth that had hit dead-center in my visor with my bare hands, thank you very much. While riding through the rain, my summer gloves (cloth motocross) were soon sopping wet. At this point, that's a good thing because now at least every part of my body is at an equal level of water saturation.

As I continued riding home, I realized that riding through the really twisty twisties in the middle of a rainstorm might not be the wisest thing I had ever decided to do. So, I turned off of I-240 on to I-40, perhaps the longest interstate in the country. The instant I entered 40, I realized that I had made another mistake when I recalled an accident my brother and I had witnessed on this section of the freeway during a rainy day ' rain is slippery for cars, too, and most drivers aren't as attuned to the handling capabilities of their vehicles in the rain as you or I might be. At this point, I'm a 65-mph two-wheeled bull's eye waiting for the right moron to bear down on me and smother me like so much mashed potatoes.

I get off on the next exit and re-plot my route home. This particular road's under a lot of construction lately and so it's not really in the best of condition. I get full-frontal exposure to the status of this road as both of my wheels decide they're going to see if I can still navigate without traction. Amazingly, the shiny side stayed up. I'm pretty sure that this fact is more of a testament to the stability of Suzuki's SV-series than it is to my riding capability, but that won't stop me from taking credit for it!

I make it home without any other incidents (except for the UPS truck that decided to pull out in front of me and made me eat its roadspray for a good few miles). I get off the bike, and melt my way into the house. I'm fairly certain that I have never been as wet in my entire life as I was when I got home that day.

I discover that the pads in my jacket come out so I can wash it. I also discover that whoever designed the way the pads come out has tiny little fingers and an ability to manipulate fabric that would make Rumplestiltskin jealous. I eventually get everything washed, cleaned, and dried. As I get out of the shower and dry off, I think to myself that I am fairly certain at this point that I'm done riding for a while.

I'm wrong, though, as I get on my baby the very next day for another ride. It's a beautiful day: blue skies, white fluffy clouds, and a nice comfortable temperature. I made a mistake, though: my ride lasted more than ten minutes. We all know what that means in Asheville' here we go again!

About the author: Eric Jacobson is an adjunct communications professor for the University of North Carolina Asheville, runs a website design firm and co-owns a computer repair service. He can be reached at owner@irxproductions.com.