Today I did something that should earn me an honorary Hells Angles patch. I did something more treacherous then almost any biker who has ever rode on two wheels. If you have motherly instincts, or feel motherly about me specifically, now would be a good time to stop reading.
My work shift starts at 5:30. Snow was in the forecast, but I anticipated it being mostly rain, and disappearing fast. I was, in all respects, wrong. The lesson here is to check the weather forecast for Seattle AND for Everett. Lesson learned.
So anyway, by 7:30 or so, it starts snowing in Everett. Hard. Driving snow. We have bay-doors that roll up and down with a reasonable amount of haste, and still the ground inside the warehouse was white inside these openings. It was coming down, cut the comedy.
So I'm left with a few options:
1. I could leave with my co-worker Steve who lives in West Seattle. He'd be happy to do that for me, and has said so on many occasions. This option leaves my bike in the parking lot. Steve would swing by tomorrow morning and pick me up for work, and the hope would be that the snow would melt and I'd be able to ride the bike home. One of the dilemmas with this option is that I've got a psychologist appoinement (have I mentioed anything about my psychologist? She rox!) tomorrow afternoon that I'd need to leave work early for, and if there's still snow, that would require me to either make Steve leave early in order to get me to that appointment (which isn't impossible, but I hate imposing), or skip the appointment (which I really didn't want to do).
2. I could stay at work with the expectation that the snow storm would evolve into rain and everything would be safe by 2:00 when my shift ends, and I could just ride home like a usual wet day. At my lunch break I spoke with a FedEx driver who had just pulled in, he said the Mukilteo Speedway was pretty white, but I5 was mostly wet. It seemed, by talking to some folks, that the storm started in the north end and was moving south. Option 2 left the possibility of a safe exit from Eerett, but a potentially dangerous ascent up the Seattle hills once I got off the freeway.
3. I could leave on the spot, ride very (very) slowly to the freeway, then I'd be home free. This is what I decided to do.
I geared up and headed out to the bike, which, by this time, had about (no exaggeration) six inches of snow on it. I brushed off the gauges, mirrors, seat, etc., and fired it up. Very (very) slowly, I inched out of my parking space and out of the parking lot. It. Was. SLICK. If I was smart about it, I'd have shoved a bag of Kingsford BBQ Bag Single Use Charcoal Briquets (http://www.kingsford.com/products/details/kingsford-bbq-bag/) up my ass. I'd be shitting diamonds.
I drug my feet in the corse of driving very (very) slowly. This posture was how I got onto I5, and then some. There's about a couple miles on highway 526 (I think? It's the 'Boeing hi-way') before I5 that I had to "ski" through. The ride was rife with occurrences of the back end sliding out from under me, trying to put my foot down, but finding nothing but slush and ice. I don't know how I did it, but I kept the bike up right.
About 4 or 5 exits down I5, I was able to pick up my feet and shift into higher gears. The next thing I know, it's sunny, dry and I'm doing 80 weaving between eighteen-wheelers (yes, literally).
I should be a Hell's Angel, or a Bandito. If anyone has any connections, hook me the fuck up.