I Wish It Would Snow Like The Old Days

Scootin' in a Winter Wonderland

I've been running my mouth lately about wanting to have a snowy winter, "the way it was when I was a kid". So between Sunday and Monday we ended up with 10 inches of snow in my yard. My parents got 15", and my boss was buried with two feet. So now that I have my wish, what do I do with it?

Well, in the interest of getting to work, and having a "grocery getter," I chained up my Chevy Citation beater that I bought for two hundred bucks. At least we would be able to get out and around if the snow got as bad as predicted. With this chore done, I tried out old Mule in the icy stuff. The stock tires had me squirreling all over the place. I wanted to ride, but this didn't feel safe. I needed a different plan.

The above photo is my other scoot, Kung Pow. It has an aggressive tire pattern more suited to snow than the BR, so I pulled it out of the quonset and fired it up. At this point I just wanted to ride. The street that I live on was still not covered too bad, as it was still early in the "snow event", so I took off and blasted around the neighborhood, flat tracking the corners. This was FUN. My wife came out and caught this shot on one of my hot-laps around the block. This would be my ride... or so I thought.

I wasn't expecting 10" overnight. Not even during the couple of hours that our power was out Sunday evening. I just didn't expect this much. The kicker came when I realized that nobody had been down my street yet early Monday morning. The schools were closed, and the plows were running only on the main streets. West 6th street was an untouched winter wonderland. And not even Kung Pow was going to push this much snow. I tried.

I ended up driving to work the last two days. I didn't want to drive, but I have to be at work, scooter or no scooter. We cut our 26 person staff at work down to seven people due to a weather affected drop in business. So as one of the magnificent seven, I worked straight through shifts each day. It was a good choice for me to drive because the streets were nasty. And as the temperatures dropped into the teens, the roads only got worse on the return commute. I needed chains for the last four blocks each night, as now they were a rutted, frozen mess. Today on my day off, we picked up enough snow to cover the icy streets again, making things a little trickier as I found out while picking Billy up from school. Even with chains I got sideways once.

As a side thought, I mentioned the power being out Sunday evening. During this time, Dena and I had lit some candles and turned on a local radio station to hear about the outages. The kids kept busy with some games, and we settled in to listen to KONP radio. Now, I'll set the scene. We are in a candle lit living room, kids are playing quietly on the floor, we are looking out the open curtains at the falling snow in the dim light of early evening. What came on the radio was perfect for this scenario. "The Old Time Radio Hour", with Sargent Preston of the Yukon, followed by The Green Hornet! We enjoyed this wonderful time together listening to radio shows from another era. The only thing missing was a 47' Ford parked out front.

As soon as the shows were over, and the announcer came on to report the local news, the lights blinked back on. All was good as far as the little ones were concerned, but in the hour before, all was good with me. I got my wish.

Have fun,
Bill

The Black Ice Club

Well, my membership dues are paid. I am once again a member of the "Black Ice Club". Payment was made by simply rolling out at 6:30 a.m. and riding Mule to work.

I had caught up with Steve's post on the Scooter In The Sticks site about his ride to work in icy conditions. I even commented that the same conditions were forecasted for our area today. But...it wasn't icy at my house.

As Mule was warming up, I walked around a bit and checked the usual things like the lawn, the sidewalk, the yard chair by the shop...no ice. So, everything is good, I'm thinking. I make it all the way into the downtown area before I see a real nice glitter in my headlights. "What the heck?"

Since the road was wet from the beginning, I had been running in the tire track part of the road. Now that I had determined that I was cruising on ice, I realized that my sweet spot seemed to be missing. The surface looked pretty consistent. I just hung in and tried to stay off the white crossing lines.

I made it up the hill past Lincoln Street with no problem, just to find it was even dicier as I crested the hill. It was here that Mule broke loose a little. Just enough to let my butt know that it was time get ahold of the seat.

Since there was very little traffic this morning, I just slowed her down and made my left onto Race Street and crawled to a stop at the light across from work. On smooth, clear, "I can't put my foot down here" freaking ice. I had to roll forward to find footing, thus putting my rear tire on the ice. And this was not too good, because the first car I had seen in four blocks, was now right behind me. I was gonna spin.

So, at the turn of the light, I made a slow beeline to the store's entry off the street. Only instead of a hook to the left to where I park, I was gliding straight into the alley. With feet down, and a bit of finesse I made it to my spot and put Mule up on the center stand, then popped up my shield and checked the lot to find that it was covered in frost and ice where the drains had left standing water from last night. I had made it, and laughed at the fact that I had done exactly what I had commented to Steve Williams about last night. Only unintentionally.

Tonight my ride home was in a rain/snow mix. I've seen two forecasts this afternoon, and they both call for snow up to 1" to 2". So we'll see what tomorrow holds in store. Like I told Steve last night, we'll go check it out.

Have fun,
Bill

Signatures And Stone Soup

Mule overlooking downtown Port Angeles

We had a nice little break in the weather this morning, and since I have the day off, I took a little putt to run some errands. The above photo was taken from the overlook park off 2nd Street and gives a view of Downtown Port Angeles, with Ediz Hook at mirror level, and above the windshield.

Ediz Hook is a natural "spit" that creates our harbor, and parallels Port Angeles. It is home to Coast Guard Group Port Angeles at the eastern tip, and is about 4 miles from beginning to end. On a warm summer evening, "The Hook" is a gathering place for tourists, walkers, bicyclists and motorbikes. And with a perfect view of the city lights, it becomes the hot spot for the teenage boys and girls to get to know each other. For those of you familiar with the term "going to watch the submarine races" well, we really do have submarines in the Strait of Juan De Fuca, which is the body of water in the picture. It adds a degree of truth when asked why you got home so late.

Part of running errands today included a stop at Clallam County Courthouse. I had been asked by the clerk in the auditors office to come down and fill out a signature card to verify that the name written on my ballot was truely mine. She actually called me at work! She said that the way I signed my name earlier this month, wasn't the was I signed it when I registered to vote. I said "No kidding, that was thirty years ago"! So I went in, and they had a gal "witness" me signing my name. She looked at it, then at my ballot in her hand, then said, "Oh, you did it perfect". She said that from "now on" my vote will count. It used to be the old way of voting, by going to a polling station and waiting to use a curtained booth where you would punch your ballot. Now we receive the ballot by mail, then fill in the spots and mail them back so a suspicious person can decide whether to let your vote count, or have you come down to prove that you are really YOU.

This fiasco was all forgotten though when I rode over to Kevin's pre-school class to join in the holiday "stone soup" story and lunch. I met Dena and little Joelle in the classroom, and we were joined by my Mother and Father in-law to hear the old story of how some old beggar taught a mean old lady how to make a magical soup out of boiling water and a rock. All of the children took part by adding plastic carrots, onions and other veggies to a plastic pot, then at stories end finding three crock pots filled with simmering soup in the kitchen of the classroom. Imagination is a wonderful thing.

We enjoyed soup, rolls, salad and pumpkin pie and hung out with the other parents and grandparents. The best part of this was the look on Kevin's face when his Daddy rolled in. That moment made my whole day.

After I left the school, I just took some time to ride aimlessly for a while. I had pretty much covered the whole town before I had gotten cold enough to want to head home. And riding in the cold when you have a cold is not a good mix. On the way home I saw a scooterist on what looked like a Honda Reflex. His reaction when he saw me was like a sighting of Bigfoot. He rubbernecked me so bad that I thought he was going to fall off his scoot. It made me laugh out loud. I'll be on the lookout to meet this guy.

Once I got home, I went out to start my Chinese 125cc Kung Pow scoot to let it run for a while since it hadn't been ridden in 2 weeks. I heard a light tapping noise from the airbox cover, so I pulled it to have a look. I found that a mouse was making a home out of it, so I'll have to screen it over tomorrow. He's been evicted.

Speaking of tomorrow...I wish all my new moto-friends a Happy Thanksgiving.

Have fun,

Bill

It's My Turn

It seems to be a running theme lately that the moto-bloggers that I follow have had, or have a cold. So today I'll join you.

My little girl Joelle has finally gotten over a cold that had her down for a few days. I didn't think that I would catch it, but I realized at work yesterday that the symptoms had a firm grip. The whole sinus, sore throat and chills thing was pretty convincing. So this morning I decided that it would be best to hang out and try to recover a bit. I'll ride the couch for a while.

I was quite pleased to find that my blog site was included on the Ride To Work website in the Commuter Blogs link section. That was a goal when I began this adventure. I'll do my best to uphold the tradition.

The one thing that this crud stopped me from doing was getting out and getting some pictures. The intent was to share some photo's of my route to work, and how diverse it is. My plan now is to try again on Wednesday, my next day off.

Till then, I'll try to sink a little deeper into the easy chair.

Have fun,
Bill

Ahh, Clear And Cold...The Way I Like It.

Shortly after I posted my entry Wednesday, the weather turned really bad. The wind picked up dramatically and the rain was heavy. Heavy enough to turn the doppler image to red over all of western Washington. Local gusts were clocked at between 49 and 70 mph. Blowing this hard sucks.

I felt lucky because I now have Wednesday's off. Due to scheduling issues at work, I encourage some people to work a split day-off schedule. Basically, I don't want to ask someone to do something that I'm not willing to do myself, and it works out well for me through the winter months. This spring I'll go back to more of a regular routine.

By lucky, I mean that I didn't have to ride in this storm. I wasn't into it, and told Dena that if it was still raging in the morning, that some serious thought would go into my decision to ride. But was I surprised.

I woke up to a calm starry sky that turned into a frosty cold sunny morning. No serious thinking at all, I was jacked about rolling out into the day. It was 33 degrees when I left my shop and I was looking directly into the sun as I crested my neighborhood hill. The streets were a bit sketchy where the sun hadn't been, but I took my time and really enjoyed the ride.

The day remained sunny and clear, so I took a rare ride home to have lunch with my two youngest, and to just get a chance to ride. As I had to attend a meeting after work, it was good to get in a little Daddy time.

The ride home was just as fun. I took a different route through an older part of town where the houses are up close to the street. You can see folks in their living rooms reading the paper, watching the tube, or in their kitchens going about their dinner making chores. It felt good seeing these things from the dark streets as I putt by on my scooter. I'll go this way again.

Today was much the same, with the same conditions. Considering the forecast of rain that we were supposed to have had the past two days, I feel very grateful that the cloud watchers have gotten it wrong again.

Tomorrow, who knows? As long as there are no trees blowing down across the road and transformers aren't showering sparks onto the cars below, I won't have to put serious thought into whether to ride. Just thought into how many layers to put on when I ride.

Have fun,
Bill

2006 Big Ruckus and 1966 Vespa 125GT

My Bookends

Above is a photo taken the day before the skies started to unload torrents of rain for the past fourteen days. Today being the worst in my opinion during this period of time.

In the foreground is my cherry little 1966 Vespa. My wife turned me on to it, and encouraged me to buy it. Had I not done so, I don't think I ever would have pursued scootering as an alternative to riding a motorcycle. I was looking for something different, but a scooter? Now I'm hooked. I've ridden more and more consistently since buying the Vespa.

I knew that the Vespa wasn't going to be a daily rider. Not for my needs. I needed a utility scooter that would stand up to the daily grind and take me up to highway speeds when needed. And a scoot that I wouldn't feel bad about leaving in the weather all the time. I wanted a workhorse. In time I'd find the Big Ruckus. But I'll start at the beginning.

The seed was planted about a year ago when I started researching scooters, and the scoot lifestyle. I wanted to learn as much as I could about them. I had been on the Ride to Work website in the past, but not to the commuter blogs link. This is where I found the Baron in Winter site that I followed to present. This site put the thought into my head that a scooter can be used as a full time vehicle no matter what the conditions. So I studied about and looked at every scooter that I could find, almost settling on the Honda Helix.

I remembered this tube framed beast with a fold-up seat that I had seen in the warehouse at P.A. Power Equipment and looked it up on their website. This was what I was looking for. A 250cc scooter that would get me a ticket if I wanted it to. And it had ME written all over it. A true odd-ball two wheeled truck. I went to P.A. Power and confirmed that this was indeed what I "needed".

My wife being an "understanding" wife allowed me to follow through with the purchase of my Big Ruckus, "Mule". I'm sure it probably hurt when she bit her tongue, but I told her that I was going to "ride it everyday, I promise". And so far I've held up my end of the deal.

I titled this post "My Bookends", because it represents the oldest and newest scooters that I own. A forty year span of time between them. And what I really love about them is the different feelings of joy that each one brings when we ride. The nostalgic feel on the old two-stroke memory maker, and the "It'll get me where I need to go" attitude of the Big Ruckus.

I've got both ends covered. I'll go thank my wife.

Have fun,
Bill

Yup, It's Still Raining Outside...

Being a pretty positive person by nature, I find it hard to complain about much. Complaining about the weather certainly won't do much good. But I do have a beef with the weather dink on the Seattle news channel that I watch.

This spank comes on and says "If you think you've seen rain and wind, wait 'til you see what's coming up in my full forecast, you won't want to miss it...later in the telecast". So now I'm sucked in, and I wait. Finally he's back and says that the next five days will be "Much the same as today". That's it!

Man, we are on the verge of setting all time records for rainfall in the month of November and when a cat like me is going to roll out into it everyday to ride to work, I'd like someone to be straight enough to tell me whats up. But to come across like something worse than what is happening now is coming, then pretty much say that the weather will be the same, sucks. And the kicker is, that I'm mad at some smooth talking cloud reader on the tube, when I've got NOAA, and the National Weather Service at my finger tips.

And I do roll out into it every day. Putting on raingear is part of my routine now, and riding the wet streets in the dark is the norm. It's not going to change for a while and I'm good with that. Hopefully I'll post some images of my commute soon to give you folks a look at my part of the rock. The rain soaked rock.

Have fun,
Bill

Yogi

I believe that no matter what your interest may be, that someone or something creates a spark to get your embers glowing. In my case, it involves motorbikes in any shape or form.

My most recent post was about a guy that just showed up one day. Today I'll write about someone I've known all my life.

Brad is someone that I played with as a little boy. He lived a half block away, and our families were friends. His nickname is Yogi, and I still refer to him as that now and again. He's cool in the way that when he's around, everything seems to be alright. The kind of guy that won't ask for anything, but will do for you at the drop of a hat. And he was everything that I wanted to be on a motorcycle.

It wasn't a Fonzie and Richie Cunningham thing, but the way he rode and the way he looked when he rode sold me on the cool that could be had by riding a bike. I remember my math teacher freaking out because Brad wheelied by the front of the high school every afternoon. And really bugging out when Brad rode down the hallway during class.

This was in 1976, and I was riding by the following year. It used to be common for me to hang out with him whenever I could and talk bikes. My formative years so to speak. I was learning, paying dues and honing my skills. He rode in the rain, and so did I. I wore used and battered leather jackets that he passed down to me.

I remember his Harley Davidson and the stripped XV920 Yamaha v-twin that he rode the snot out of. When he went with Yamaha, so did I. A 1981 550 Maxim was my ride of choice due to my gas station wages, and I rode it year round.

By this time I was hooked, and my circle of friends in the riding world was growing. I had my first taste of the 1%er lifestyle during this period. Two three-piece clubs were dealing with issues in my hometown in the early eighties, and as a pump jockey that always had his bike parked out front, I met a lot of really hardcore bikers. I went to their house, worked on bikes, and hung out when I was invited. I was threatened, stared down, and shown weapons that I'd never seen before. But I was young and hung in there and was still around after their issues were solved and moved on.

Brad had gone on to work as a logger, a longshoreman, and spent time in Alaska. We pretty much lost touch after this time. He got married, started a family and settled down with a job in road construction. Then he got hurt.

As life turns out funky sometimes, I bought the house of my childhood, and a few years later, Brad moved into the house across the alley from where he grew up. We were back where we started, and we would talk now and again when I would see him out with his kids or his dog, and I would end up talking about whatever bike project I was on. Brad on the other hand had given up motorcycles shortly after starting his married life. He hadn't ridden in years.

Well, about a week ago, as I was turning into my alley on my way home from work, Brad was on a walk with his dog. I stopped and popped up my helmet shield, and he walked over and said quietly, "You gotta stop by my shop one of these days, I've got a 67' Triumph you need to look at". I asked if it was his.
He just said "Yeah, it's mine". And it felt like 1980 again.

I hope to think that maybe I did for him, what he did for me by providing a spark of inspiration in motorcycles.

Have fun,
Bill

Whoa, It's An Indian!

Since the weather finally took a break from establishing new rainfall records, tremendous flooding and life and property loss, I feel that I need to take a weather break as well. I rode to work in what is being called the "Hundred Year Flood". And I'm glad I did.

So I thought I'd yak a little about what inspires me to ride, and who. One time about three summers back, while camping at a place called South Beach on the Pacific coast of Washington, I met a guy named Ian Davidson.

My wife and kids, my in-laws, and a group of friends make a trip to camp at South Beach on the third week of July every year. It's called "primitive" camping because there are no RV hook-ups, running water etc., just open space above the beach to pitch a tent, or park your trailer. It's beautiful there.

Well, It's been my custom every year to load up on motorcycle magazines to read and share with Corndog, (my father in law) while hanging around camp. And on one late afternoon, I was drinking coffee and reading about a 1945 Indian in American Iron Magazine, when I heard it. Putt, putt, putt,...and I looked up to the road just beyond Corndogs rig, and there it was. A 1939 Indian Sport Scout.

Green and cream, with beat up leather saddle bags, and a windshield that looks as if it had been on since new. The rider was wearing a puddin' bowl helmet, and a weather worn letterman's style jacket with an original Indian patch on the back. I had to meet this guy.

I waited and watched as the rider got settled in on "the hill" at the end of the camp area. I grabbed two cups of coffee and walked up to where the rider was sitting at his picnic table, and offered him a cup. We exchanged introductions and talked about his bike, and where he was going. Ian was on his way to an AMCA event in Oregon, and was taking the coastal route US 101. He had begun his trip in Deming, Washington, about an hour north of Seattle. Having been in the logging business, Ian was now setting up shop to work on old bikes he told me. His newest bike in years of vintage was a 1948 Harley Davidson.

I asked Ian to join my family at our campfire for dinner and he accepted. We spent the evening talking and sharing stories, and I tried to absorb as much as I could, because I recognized this as one of those moments that I wanted to remember. The next morning was just as interesting.

I woke early to look up on the hill and find Ian under the picnic table. As I found out later, he had just rolled his sleeping bag out on top of the table, but found himself in the drizzle coming off the water in the early hours, then moved underneath to stay dry. Corndog had walked up with me to visit and bring coffee, and had pretty much leaned in a bent position on the table while Ian and I talked. After coffee, Ian suited up in his old jacket and rainpants and I thanked him for spending time with my family.

It was about this time that old Corndog stood up and said in a strained tone, "I gotta crap!", and took off in the same bent position about 200 yards to the outhouse. We watched him shuffle away as Ian kick-started the Indian with hand painted logo's on the tank to life. He put on the old helmet and goggles, then shook my hand and putted away.

I've spoken to Ian since that day, and told him that he was an inspiration to me. When I think about the weather being too tough, I think of that guy on the old Indian sleeping out in the middle of it. And then I put on my gear and putt away.

Have fun,
Bill

Rain, Rain...Rain!

For the amount of time that I've spent over the last couple of days checking forecasts and preparing for the next wave of a seemingly unending series of storms, I'm beginning to think I might have had a career as a weather guesser. As I'm building this post, we are feeling the beginnings of the third installment of super wet storms to hit in the last 48 hours.

The potential for strong winds is hanging out there as well, so I spent some time today shoring up my quonset hut that I park lawn equipment and my Kung Pow scooter in. It's a 20' x 10' steel pipe and tarp unit with a zippered door. I found that it was in need of a few repairs, and I got it done between drenchings.

The Big Ruckus got some attention today as well. ( I've taken to calling her "Mule".) The ignition/key switch on the BR is in the open, and faces upward. So you have to push the key down into the switch. The problem here is that when its raining this much, water tends to pool above the keyhole. So in a moment of clear thinking, I came up with the idea of putting a rubber bathtub drainplug over the switch. All I needed to do was trim the inset part of the plug down a quarter inch so it would sit flush. Problem solved.

After that bit of creativity, I pulled the tour pack off the deck and dropped the backrest down to the pillion position. This is the way I'll ride Mule for the rest of the winter.

The trusty Madami Skybreeze had been the steed of choice for the past few days, mainly because I hadn't stripped Mule down, but also because of the full plastic body that provides some protection from road spray. The legshields are nice, and on the BR, there is no such protection.

But one of my goals in creating this blog was to put the Big Ruckus through its paces in a Pacific Northwest winter, and tell it's story. So tomorrow, when Port Angeles is supposed to get between 2 to 4 inches of rain, Mule and I will get after it. Come hell or high water.

Have fun,
Bill

"Why Don't You Drive To Work?"

I was thinking about this question on my ride home tonight. I guess my question is, why do guys like me keep riding to work when most everyone else has put the sheet over their scoot and hooked up the battery tender? I think of the auto parts store two doors down that had two to four employee bikes parked out front every day, till about two weeks ago. Now they all drive to work.

The question is a little deeper for me though. Is it that I just really enjoy riding, or is it the challenge to go deeper into the season than everyone else? It's a combination of both. I do enjoy the ride. I get a genuine good feeling from tooling along on two wheels. Ten years ago it was by bicycle year round. Then after a knee injury, it was back to motorbikes and now scooters full time. It's part of who I am. But the challenge of still being out there when one isn't expected to be is a great motivator.

I was asked if I was trying to prove something. I said "No, I'm trying to get to work". I have all of my reasons in reserve. "It's fuel saving, it's economical, it's fun...blah, blah, etc. But the bottom line is, that I feel that I would be cheating myself of doing something that I really enjoy if I didn't pull on a helmet and go my way. And why cheat myself with all of my good reasons?

Have fun,
Bill

The Weatherman Was Right!

Man, is it coming down! And the forecast is for rain continuing through Tuesday, with gusty winds to boot.

Speaking of boots, I made a cheap purchase of waterproof workboots at the local Payless Shoe store. And they work great. I paid $22.00 for them and they don't leak a bit. Unlike my Fieldsheer touring jacket with "Rainguard" that leaked at the elbows of all places. I can't find where the water is coming in, but I know for sure where its settling. Other than that, all my other gear worked.

The ride home was one of those "senses tingling" total awareness affairs. It's flat whizzing down rain, it's dark, and the cars are traveling the same speed as they were in sunny mid-August. I felt vulnerable out there amongst the fast and moronic. It might be time to go with "Plan B", and ride the winter residential route. At least the pucker factor will be minimized.

I did find one thing today that makes riding to work just a bit more worthwhile. It's the reaction that I get from my co-workers. It feels so good to walk in the door and hear, "You rode today?". I say "Yeah, I ride everyday." Even my neighbor was shaking his head and laughing as I rode out this morning. Don't they know they are warming my soul?

Who needs a heated vest?

Have fun,
Bill

"Drenching" Rains a Comin'

The local newspaper is forecasting "drenching rain" starting late tonight. As far back as I can remember, I've never seen rain billed as "drenching", so it'll be interesting to see what tomorrow brings to my commute. Although it's been cold the last few nights, the daytime temps have been around 40 degrees. And with almost cloudless sunny skys, the first step into November has been real nice. Maybe tomorrow I'll be humming that Guns-n-Roses tune about "cold November rain" on my way to work.

My commute is relatively short compared to some. I live on the westside of Port Angeles, and have a series of hills, both up and down, to ride before I get to our downtown area. This area is on the waterfront of the Strait of Juan De Fuca. It starts with an industrial area with two major boatworks plants and a plywood mill. From there, I pass into the downtown business district on First Street. Here you will find your tourist shops, antique stores, coffee houses and so on. I enjoy this part of my daily ride the most because I've always loved this part of town. From here I continue on First, to Race Street where I make a left to Front Street (the other half of our "main drag") to where I work. End of commute, start of my work day.

In the winter months, I vary my route a bit, trying to find less hills and less traffic. I costs me in time, but I like the slower pace more. I started riding my Madami Skybreeze 125cc scooter on this route earlier this year. The Madami is a modern style Chinese model that runs up to around 50mph, and gets about 80 miles per gallon. I ride "Kung Pow" to work once or twice a month for variety. It sits a little tall for me, as I have to tiptoe at stoplights, which makes it a bit sketchy when its wet. Not like my Big Ruckus, which fits me fine.

In all, my commute isn't long on miles (4 1/2 miles each way), but it gives me an opportunity to scoot through my favorite parts of town. And on my return ride home, I stretch it out a bit by riding past the industrial area onto Marine Drive, which has me riding by the boat haven. Here you find anything from multi-million dollar yachts, pleasure craft, and crab boats. I don't get to ride this way in the morning because I take my 8 year old Billy to school in the family truckster before hustling home to hop on the BR to make it to work on time.

If the Accuweather guru is right, I'll need to hustle tomorrow to put on my raingear so I won't get "drenched".

Have fun,
Bill