I went out to ride my bike today, and the cover had blown off. Again!

I’ve tried using weights. I’ve tried clipping the cover to my bike. I’ve tried threatening both the bike and the cover with dire consequences if they don’t do what I say.

It isn’t working.

This Northwest weather just wasn’t made for thin skirts, I’m afraid.

I’ll go for a ride in the afternoon, and it’s warmish outside. I say warm-ish because warm weather at this time of year in the Pacific Northwest is rare. However, sometimes I’ll hit a day when the sun is shining, and, wonder of all wonders, it isn’t raining! I ride into the driveway, smiling at the colors in the sky: peach, yellow and pink play leading roles, with purple, white and gold stepping in now and then. “Glorious!”, I murmur as I lock my bike to the fence.

Throwing a cover over the bike, I amble into the house, certain that Spring is finally here.

Two hours later, I’m back outside, running to park my precious vehicle in the garage. As the rain drops run furiously down the back of my shirt and the wind shoves hair into my eyes, I wonder how I could’ve ever thoughtthe season had changed.

I have names for nearly everything. My bike’s name is Eli because when I ride it, I don’t waste time, and in my head sometimes I hear the song, “Eli’s Comin’”.

“Well, Eli”, I mumble, as Iwrestle my bike to safety, “There’s no doubt about it. You’ve simply GOT to learn to keep your skirt down.”

Funny thing—Eli hasn’t ever answered me. At least, not yet…