It rained torrentially on Sunday. This wouldn't have bothered me had i been at home sleeping under my warm blanket. Instead i was out on the road, with my body fully exposed to the relentless rain. Alas, the good weather earlier - which we had too soon spoken about - didn't last. Although the headwind seemed stronger than last week when we started out, at least that was made tolerable by the cool weather; the clouds were quite abundant but didn't look threatening - that is, until we were riding into Tuas.
The rain hadn't come but looking into the sky and up ahead, there was no doubt that it's just a matter of time before it pours buckets. Still, i harboured the thought that we might just be lucky. For all we know it could be a false alarm - wishful thinking!
Eugene isn't a man of many words; he's friendly and amicable but doesn't strike one as the sort who talks a great deal. Yet whenever he speaks he seems always wise and thoughtful. 'We are heading right into the eye of the storm,' he said with a knowing smile as we rode downslope and felt the icy coolness of the air. I couldn't but feel a sense of admiration. He was spot-on, and his choice of words perfectly described the situation.
Much to my immense disappointment, it finally rained. The droplets fell from above, randomly but forcefully. Picking up haste, they soon pelted heavily and in increasing amount. There was a palpable sense of urgency as i realised i was making greater efforts at pedalling: the rest of them were cycling faster; and when one starts cycling faster in a group, everyone joins in. It's as though we were running away from destiny, trying to beat nature with naked human velocity - but on our two-wheelers, of course.
For quite some time it seemed as though our endeavours had paid off: the sky was completely enveloped by dark grey clouds but the almost-certain downpour did not materialise. The rain hadn't stopped, to be sure, but it was manageable. I love the rain and wouldn't mind a good drench - but not when i am cycling: for one thing i (and most people) hate getting my socks wet (it reminds me of army); for another i don't relish the prospect of cleaning the bike (lubricating and all) at the end of the ride.
The impending storm and falling raindrops certainly was no dampener on everyone's spirits. There was much talk and merriment, i could hear; I didn't know what the guys were talking about, however, as i was fumbling in my pouch for my snicker bars: my glycogen level was depleting and i needed desperately to eat to recover strength. And so - already the rest of the pack were very fast - i began to drop behind them, trailing further as i slowed down whilst trying to grip the handlebar with one hand and rummaging my waistpouch with the other. When i finally got my snicker bar, it turned out to be another problem trying to tear away the wrapper: the snicker bar has turned soft and was sticking stubbornly to the wrapper. It's not my day.
Perhaps Heaven decided to let me have my snicker bar before he unleashed its fury. As i felt better and was able to cycle harder (by this time i couldn't see the guys anymore), the heavy rain came on. My shoes felt heavier as they became two temporary resevoirs; the tyres were picking up water and splashing towards me, not to mention the rain that was coming from all directions; and, finally, it was getting a little discouraging riding solo on a large empty road where my friends were so well ahead that i couldn't spot them. I knew our destination - West Coast Food Centre - was not far away so i did the best that i could - which is to summon all my strength and cycle faster to catch up with the others. Strangely, i didn't feel i was exerting tremendous strength even though i looked at my speedo and it registered nearly 35kph quite consistently. I found out later that there was tailwind - no wonder all of them cheong and surged forth. EY said that at one point they were cycling at 50 or 55kph - my, i can't even reach that speed when i go down a steep slope!
At the food centre we laid our bikes aside and sat around a small makeshift table at the side-walkway. Keith got the lady from the drinks store over to take our orders and the poor lady expressed mock displeasure at our completely different choices of drinks: 1 teh-o, 2 teh, 1 soya bean, 1 chin chow, 1 kopi-o, 1 hundred plus (not sure about this). Nevertheless, she was near her store and all she did was to shout the orders across. We ordered our food, talked about the ride and, as usual, all kinds of jokes were made. Jon and Kenneth did not order anything. I asked Kenneth why and he said his wife was preparing a sumptuous lunch that day. His stomach was completely reserved for his wife's ai xin wu can.
All this while the rain showed no signs of abating. Eugene and Kenneth were leaving and i decided i might as well, since I would be going the same way as Kenneth. I'm not sure if that proved a wise move, for the rain was incredibly heavy as we cycled back. I was mercilessly assaulted by the pelting droplets; shivering with cold, there was nothing to be done except to keep on cycling. Home beckons.
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