Droplet patterns.
Saturday, August 22nd, 2020
We returned to an Atlanta in its familiar late summer pattern: rainy, sometimes very rainy late in the afternoon, just in time for commuting drivers to find small lakes on the city’s interstates.
Since I’ve never really had to commute to a job, I have no real read on whether there are fewer folk out there having to fight with this on the freeways, but I can report that in our very intown Virginia Highland neighborhood, on my way back home with a takeout dinner, I saw more than a dozen bicyclists soaked to the bone, including a dad with two first-grader-ish protegés off his starboard beam, heading down Virginia avenue, looking very much as if they were biking through a swimming pool.
The kids were not distraught, however. (I might have been at that age.)
