It’s the longest day of the year and it’s overcast here with the promise of rain. Rain is enervating and allows our physical world to replenish. I have many memories of summer rain, both soothing and terrifying and some humorous. Cloudy skies affect my mood, not in a good way. I definitely have a fair weather personality.
Back to all those summers of teaching tennis behind the local middle school with no shelter nearby…except for many large trees. Where do you not go during a storm? Under large trees, right? One had to weigh being soaked to the skin versus being electrocuted. Getting wet is the most desirable outcome for me. What turned into a Keystone Cop episode was the day the heavens opened and it poured rain. We were teaching the younger kids that morning, most of whom arrived by bicycle.
It was 10 a.m. and the air was thick with humidity and gnats. It seemed we could reach up and touch the grey ceiling of clouds. We instructors were twitchy as we knew bad weather was coming. Rain was one thing, lightning was a whole different ballgame. A downpour began in an instant and we knew it was time to “abandon ship.” But we felt responsible for getting the kids safely home. One instructor stayed behind to supervise kids who were waiting for rides. The rest of us set out on our bikes to see the others to their neighborhoods.
Our group looked like an oversized, underaged, bicycle gang. Among tennis rackets, thermoses, bicycles, the pouring rain caused us to have to shout instructions and directions. We made it to the first neighborhood and our group downsized by five kids. That left about twenty kids and three instructors. As we approached the next neighborhood, things got dicey. One side of the group needed to go to the right and one side of the group needed to go to the left. The problem? These factions were flip-flopped within the large group.
The group had slowed considerably due to the intensity of the rain. In slow motion, the two groups within the large group turned toward each other. The left side of the group turned right and the right side turned left. Slow motion bike carnage ensued. I was riding drag so was not knocked down. Ahead of me was a considerable tangle of bikes, bodies all over mostly laughing. It took awhile to untangle bodies, rackets, and bikes. Thankfully there were only minor scrapes and a few disengaged bicycle chains. I still chuckle when I think of it. And never ever have I been that wet since. It was far worse than standing in the shower with one’s clothes on because we were in this driving rain for an extended period of time.
Once home, I stripped off my soaking wet clothes in the back hallway of the house and ran upstairs to the shower. A hot shower was followed by clean and dry clothes. I plunked a can of tomato soup into a pan to heat and carried my rapidly dripping pile of tennis clothes to the washing machine in the basement. After a lunch of a toasted cheese sandwich, along with the tomato soup, the images of what had taken place flashed through my head. I’m still grinning forty five years later.
N.B. This was not at all what I’d intended to write. My fingers seem to have a will of their own. While I laugh about this incident whenever I think of it, at the time it was a bit harrowing. Tennis whites mingled with road rash isn’t a pretty picture. It all worked out, thankfully.
Stories Are For Eternity 