People,

The remnants of Jeanne are passing over us here in Boston and the rain is pouring down. I hate the rain, almost as much as I hate winter. And I don't think hating the rain needs too much of an explanation; it gets me wet when I want to be dry, it cancels all my outdoor activities, it fosters the mold that gives me the splitting allergy headaches, it makes my feet wet and itchy, it makes the trees grow and the animals live and good lord do I hate nature. Ok, maybe scratch that last one, but you get my point.

Anyway, this year I especially hate the rain because each day it keeps me off the road is a day it brings me closer to the end of bike season. I have to admit that I've fallen madly in love with my motobicycleta this season and the idea of packing him up for the winter breaks my little heart. Soon we'll spend our days apart, him drained of gas sitting under a cover in a shed, me (possibly full of gas) crammed under someone's armpit on the T.

Where's the justice?