April does its best to make a fool of me

April does its best to make a fool of me

The forecast clearly said the rain would begin at 8 a.m. It didn’t mince words. It didn’t give a probability. It was written in plain English right there on my smartphone. The radar backed it up. The songbirds even seemed to verify the statement. Rain was one hour out, and I was a simple 45-minute bicycle ride away from work. The math seemed simple. I’d make it with 15 minutes to spare. What could possibly go wrong?

Everyone makes mistakes, even the weatherman. My mistake was listening to him. In Ohio, February is historically horrible, and March is shamelessly schizophrenic. April, however, always seems to offer a reason for hope. Daytime temperatures tease into the 70s now and again, returning birds scrum at the feeder like so many feathered rugby players, and the spring beauty of dandelion and daffodil conspire across the entire length of the month to make fools like me believe winter has finally taken leave.

Fifteen minutes into the ride, the rain arrived. And it did not saunter across the landscape like a cat crossing the dining room table as some gentle April rains tend to do. Instead, a wall of rain slapped me in the face as if I’d insulted its mother. Along with the rain came the wind, and with that a drop in my forward momentum that cut my progress in half. Even then my optimism for the season at hand held fast.

“I’m nearly halfway there,” I told myself. “It’ll only get better from here on out.”

It didn’t get better. In fact, it got considerably worse. Just as I was crossing the lowest geographical point in my journey, my shifter cable exploded, and I was left to climb the rest of the ride in my most difficult gear.

Soaking wet and creeping upward at a snail’s pace bent against wind, rain and gravity, I remembered a bumper sticker I’d once seen bearing the message: “A bad day of fishing is better than a good day at work.” I wondered how that same optimist could spin my current situation. Several angry iterations include “Even a great bike ride to work lands you in the same place — work” and “The faster you ride the sooner you arrive at work, so what’s the point?”

I finally settled on the April optimist’s take: “A bad morning on the bike deserves a good day at work.”

A few pedal strokes later, I pulled a muscle in my back. Everyone makes mistakes, right?

Kristin and John Lorson would love to hear from you. Write Drawing Laughter, P.O. Box 170, Fredericksburg, OH 44627, or email John at jlorson@alonovus.com.


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