Welcome to NYC, Your New Tropical Destination

I thought I was doing the Macarena. I swear I didn't know it was a rain dance.



I only lasted two bikeless days before breaking out the trusty Centurion to bike to work.
Now, I would NEVER leave this bike on the street. Not that it's worth very much, but I would cry me a river if it got stolen, and as we all know, in NYC, if you leave it on the street, sooner or later it will get stolen.
Like I said, this is the first bike I've ever had long enough to have to do maintenance on.
The rest were all stripped, clipped or mauled.
The last time I rode my road bike, I got caught underneath the Triboro in an end of the world kind of deluge, so today when I opened the front door of the office and saw a bunch of people starting to huddle out of the rain, I figured I could wait a while before heading home.
I made some calls, I did some work, I looked out the window, and the rain had stopped.
I made it three blocks before it started raining again.
I went from dry to irretrievably soaked to blindly hydroplaning in less than a block.
You know how sometimes when you are riding past the cabs stuck in rush hour traffic and the sweat-stained huddled masses stumbling out of subway stops, you just feel smarter than everyone else?
Maybe I'm being punished for hubris.
Do you think if I did penance the bicycle gods would let up a little?
I know, I could buy that hot pink mountain bike someone is trying to sell on craigslist for $500.
Riding that in public must certainly be punishment enough.