Upper Thomson Road, 57 km. Weather girl says it'll rain. I think, maybe they'll get it wrong today as they have on some other days.
As I head out, I see dark clouds. So I ride towards the light. Perhaps I was in the eye of the storm; suddenly the sky turns dark and rain pours. The storm is directly above me; I can tell from the split second between lightning and thunder. That's close!
The trees arch overhead, like a tunnel. In between is a light grey of heavy rain, undergirded by the dark grey of asphalt. The rain stings as it hits my bare arms and face. Yes, the weatherman is wrong: this is not a "shower" (a shower is like what you feel in the bathroom); this is a thunderstorm.
My disc brakes squeal in protest as I brake downhill. But I've figured out how to fix the noise without removing the pads and lathering them up. Squeeze the brakes, the manual equivalent of anti-braking system. Perhaps that gets rid of oily film. Or perhaps the storm is so heavy, it flushed oil off the road.