Rain Riding

I just rode home from Swan St in Richmond, what I would deem a medium length ride, on one of the rainiest nights we've had in ages. You would think I hated it, but I didn't. Admittedly I'd had quite a few lemon margaritas, and this may have contributed to my zen-like state. 

I'm not sure what it was that I enjoyed most about the ride. Some possibilities include:

• It didn't feel like a long ride (see note above re: margarita consumption)
  
• It wasn't cold. Or if it was, it didn't matter because I was warm.
• Maybe it was the knowledge that, despite the rain, I was on my way to a warm house, warm bed, cup of tea and some YouTube.
• Maybe it was riding down side streets I'd never travelled before, gawking at the architecture, and the street life at 11pm on a Friday.
  
• Maybe it was the transition from the unfamiliar to the familiar; the fascination of the new and strange replaced by the comfort of the known and cherished. This transition actually took place very rapidly. One moment I was careening down some entirely new street in Richmond, only to turn, cross Punt Rd, and recognise every building, every intersection, and tread the well worn path to my house. Richmond was a reminder of the mainstream that I am generally so removed from; I was returning to my self-contained, intelligenstia, artsy-fartsy bubble. I do love my bubble.
  
• Maybe it was the newly acquired benefit of Sharryn's punishing gym sessions, and the fact that I didn't lose my breath or feel a strain. I could have just kept on riding.
• Maybe it was the aftermath of a pleasant evening, and the knowledge of fun times in the days ahead.
• Maybe the steady rain also echoed the melancholy undercurrent I'd been feeling and ignoring all day, of knowing that one of my very favourite people was away, and that however much I'd like to see him, I wont get to for another week.
• Maybe it was just because I'm a bit naff.

All these thoughts and more occurred to me, as I rode home in the rain.