Postulations on Pedaling with Precipitation

All this thunder and rain; It's the sound of me getting slower. 

Everyday, the predictions swing wildly, and the accuracy is only mildly more reliable.  80% chance, and we've got dust bunnies and blue skies. 30% day ends in a monsoon.

It's the same ol' cliche.  "A monkey could be a weather man." "My window is my best weather judge." "They should be paid on accuracy."

I don't want the job, as I think it's Mother Nature's sense of humor, treating meteorologists as her whipping boys.  "Predict me, will you?!  I doubt it.  You're not worthy!"

I have a rain bike built, but it's far from my favorite ride. So I hedge my bets, leave it in favor of another, and come up snake eyes. Can I really continue to blame it on fate, when I make the same bad wager, over and over?

Time to wake up and smell the mud puddles. Time to break out my fenders and older, tired, kits. Find that old pair of shoes that still had just enough life left in them, to warrant a spot in the corner of the closet. Time they earned their keep, again.

Fool's Gold is looming, and I guess I better start earning my own keep.