A couple weeks ago I stopped on the way to work to put on an extra layer to keep the cold away from my tender flesh. Less than perfect weather does seem like a good reason to stop riding when minor fashion adjustments make flying down the road a pleasure. It must be too much of an adjustment for a lot of riders.

Here I am in Maine. Sustained winds of 25 knots are blowing in off the ocean with gusts up to 38 knots. That’s around 44 mph for non-nautical types. A fresh gale. Rain stings when it hits your face. It’s hard to walk. And you hope nothing comes flying off the beach in your direction.

Just like setting off on the Vespa when the temperature plummets I head out on the beach for a walk to Perkins Cove about a mile away. I have the right gear. There is a fine little café where I can get in out of the weather and have something hot to drink. Arriving in Perkins Cove, wet yet satisfied in the same manner when I return from a winter ride, I find the café closed. Everything is closed and aside from a few storm peepers inside their cars there isn’t a soul outside.

The experience gave me an excellent opportunity to justify and rationalize my riding (and walking) behavior. Standing on a promontory looking out past the waves I remembered sailing through similar weather just 30 miles off shore on my way to Peake’s Island, Maine.

Maybe it’s a good time to re-evaluate risk.