Into each life some rain must fall

But one doesn't usually meet it head on, as we did that Saturday on our way back home from Ternate in Cavite. It was a 65-km push one way, with farms and greens lining either flanks of the road, and then a church, school, and string of houses. In the morning the bike ride had been fast and nice, with the sun stirring the dust that the dews had settled the night before. In the afternoon we had the rain and things started to go slow and the ordinarily two-hour ride lengthened and became a real pain in the ass.

Not that we were left with no other choice. We knew that it could rain hard. We were rained in the beach where we had our lunch, and we saw the color of the sea turn from brown to blue and then to the color of wet sands. That and the sea having in some parts a cool current and we knew that it would rain harder. But how would going home with our bikes on board a taxi be, wearing as we were a cycling jersey?

We waited for the sun to come out behind the clouds. In the meantime the group finished the bottle of Fundador and the oysters. In the early afternoon the sun did come out. We washed in turns in the shower room that the beach operator was letting out, filled our canteens with cold water from his house, and dusted off the sands on the tires of our bikes.

On our way out of Ternate the afternoon had been fine. The farms, green and bright in the morning, was then set against a gray sky and the road empty and wide. There was a slight draft and we rode close to one another. Then there were flat tires. We stopped and helped change the tires. Going home from Ternate we were forced to stop about five times. We reached Kawit with the sky getting darker, and made a brief stop at a church there.

After we had our prayers said we had goto and bibingka at a nearby diner. While we're at our merienda it began to rain and the cottage trickled down with rainwater. By that time it was around 3 p.m., but the lights in the diner was already turned on. We lounged for a while, still hoping probably that behind those clouds and rain the sun was still shining. How could it not be? But if it did we didn't get to see it and in a little while boredom got into us and we wanted to go home.

The night settled on us while we were under the rain. We went slow, with the rain falling on our eyes and the man in front only a shadow. I couldn't remember getting thirsty on that ride. But, now that I think about it, I doubt if it was all rainwater that I had taken, considering that we rode close to one another and the wheel of the man in front tending to spray floodwater on the man behind him.

But I didn't stop to worry about it. There was always in my attention the man in front of me, the road under the floodwater, and the cars that for a moment seemed to be going toward me. There was no other time that I had put my life in danger more than I did during that Saturday. Nor there was other time that I missed my bed more than I did during that bike push back home.

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