It's August. The news should be full of stories of roads melting, ice cream sales breaking all records and topless sunbathers in Hyde Park.
But it is not full of stories like this. August is now known as "Monsoon Season".
Both times I've taken the Caterham out lately it's acted as some kind of offering to the Gods of Precipitation who have responded by dumping a month's rain on parts of Hampshire in half an hour.
On Sunday morning I cast my eyes skyward for ages before taking the bull by the proverbial horns and blatting over to Goodwood for their monthly breakfast club. A good showing of classics despite the iffy weather. And a good turn out of Sevens too, along with a few faces I'd not seen in a while.
But on the return journey, not ten miles from home, a torrential microburst of rain turned the road in to a river. I was faced with something of a dilemma at this stage. To keep going and increase speed in order to increase the slipstream and thus stay a bit dry, but risk aqua-planing in to a hedge, or slow down for safety's sake and get soaked.
I opted to stop, hoist that essential motoring accessory the golfing umbrella, and let the rain subside. And I must say once cocooned under the brolly things didn't seem so bad. OK, the rain continued, and in places it still dripped in, but somehow it evoked an "It could be worse" atmosphere. All that was missing was a nice cup of tea to really see things off. Note to self, must carry flask next time rain is imminent.
The second drenching was tonight when Rob and I set off for a pub meet near Abingdon. Again we were swamped by a Biblical deluge. This was worse than Sunday and, having foolishly placed all our weather-protection eggs in the Met Office basket of "overcast but dry", neither of us had full doors fitted (forgot the flask too).
Eventually we aborted the trip and dashed (at a whopping 40mph) for home.
Still, it wasn't a wasted journey as I learnt by accident that a half hood and half doors aren't really compatible as the doors need to be in place before climbing in the car, and to climb in requires the roof not to be fitted, which it was at the time.
Still, at least it wasn't dark.
But it is not full of stories like this. August is now known as "Monsoon Season".
Both times I've taken the Caterham out lately it's acted as some kind of offering to the Gods of Precipitation who have responded by dumping a month's rain on parts of Hampshire in half an hour.
On Sunday morning I cast my eyes skyward for ages before taking the bull by the proverbial horns and blatting over to Goodwood for their monthly breakfast club. A good showing of classics despite the iffy weather. And a good turn out of Sevens too, along with a few faces I'd not seen in a while.
But on the return journey, not ten miles from home, a torrential microburst of rain turned the road in to a river. I was faced with something of a dilemma at this stage. To keep going and increase speed in order to increase the slipstream and thus stay a bit dry, but risk aqua-planing in to a hedge, or slow down for safety's sake and get soaked.
I opted to stop, hoist that essential motoring accessory the golfing umbrella, and let the rain subside. And I must say once cocooned under the brolly things didn't seem so bad. OK, the rain continued, and in places it still dripped in, but somehow it evoked an "It could be worse" atmosphere. All that was missing was a nice cup of tea to really see things off. Note to self, must carry flask next time rain is imminent.
The second drenching was tonight when Rob and I set off for a pub meet near Abingdon. Again we were swamped by a Biblical deluge. This was worse than Sunday and, having foolishly placed all our weather-protection eggs in the Met Office basket of "overcast but dry", neither of us had full doors fitted (forgot the flask too).
Eventually we aborted the trip and dashed (at a whopping 40mph) for home.
Still, it wasn't a wasted journey as I learnt by accident that a half hood and half doors aren't really compatible as the doors need to be in place before climbing in the car, and to climb in requires the roof not to be fitted, which it was at the time.
Still, at least it wasn't dark.
