After three blocks the wind has increased exponentially, and the intersection ahead of me is empty except for a giant dust storm that looks so angry I briefly consider stopping and looking for shelter for the night. But instead I close my right eye, turn my head, and push through it, feeling a sandblast of NY grime.
As we continue through Manhattan to the bridge, the persistent whirling dirt that dusts my eyes with grit mingles with a light, cold drizzle.
Finally, past all the belligerent truck drivers and sharp-turning cabs, we reach the bridge and its sheltered lanes of relative calm. There's hardly anyone else there, so I get to look over my shoulder at the near-constant white flashes above Manhattan.
Halfway across the bridge, the flashes have caught up; I can see them to the side and reflecting off tall buildings ahead.
Not one block into Queens, lightning flashes nearby and the intermittent thwack of fat raindrops on my helmet begins. A dozen long city blocks to go - I'm not going to beat this storm home but I couldn't be more thrilled! The rain increases in surges, retreating a little, then returning even thicker. Finally it drops all pretense - the thunder follows the lightning more and more closely until I can hear the individual branches of a bolt as it crackles above me. My tires are spitting water in a crazy arc and my eyes, squinted since the dust of Manhattan, narrow to allow just the glow of traffic signals and taillights. Going as fast as I can through drenching curtains of water while making sure I have enough time to react on the newly-wet road with just coaster brakes, I fishtail (mildly) only once.
I arrive at my doorstep dripping, beaming, taking a last look at the sky and the rain as someone high up in the apartment building across the way closes their window.
That was really, really fun.
*The red line represents the temperature this evening, dropping from 90 at the beginning of the ride to 70 toward the end. The wind speed went from below 8mph to 20mph in the same time period.
