I guess that sacrificial goat did the trick

The Weather Gods seem to not hate me anymore. Despite the threat of thunderstorms, the standard biking group once again got up at an ungodly hour to go ride 31 miles. We said that if there was thunder and lightning, forget it, but otherwise, we had already paid our money and there was the promise of a barbecue at the end. So we pretty much resigned ourselves to soggy shoes. It was misting lightly when we left the house, which turned into a full-fledged rain on the expressway. But luckily for us, by the time we pulled into the parking lot of the school we were starting from, it had gone back to misting. There was nothing by the time we actually hit the road. Our luck was turning. There was still a fair amount of spray coming up from the puddles in the road, and John From Ann Arbor had a nice stripe up the middle of his back by the time we finished, but we managed to stay fairly dry. After changing into some real shoes, we headed inside to replenish some of those burned calories. A few minutes after loading up our plates, someone gave a shout. I looked in the direction everyone was pointing, only to see rain pouring down outside the window. I was extremely proud of us for managing to avoid the crappy weather, not that it was in any way influenced by anything we did. Except for that sacrifice last night.