On our ride from Corinto to La Paz Centro, Nicaragua, Antonio and I stopped for a drink at a tienda. As we were sitting, we noticed really dark clouds moving towards us, so we decided to wait a few minutes to see what happened. I moved my bike underneath the awning, and sat happily with Antonio, waiting for the storm.
A few minutes later, heavy wind gusts caught us off guard. Before I could react, one gust punched my bike, knocking it over violently, tearing up the handlebar tape in two places. As I was cursing the wind, the rain came. Hurricane-like rain. The 10-foot-long awning didn’t help much. I was wet and victimized. I thrust myself up against my bike, trying to protect it from the rain. The tienda owner told Antonio and I to come inside. Panicked and in emergency-mode, I prepared myself and my bike for the short dash through the rain.
Inside, we were accompanied by other rain refugees, many of them kids. I had bought a large pack of cookies earlier that day and hadn’t opened them yet. I figured this was the time. The cookies’ destiny. I went around the room, offering a small packet to everyone. To my surprise, everyone took one. And unfortunately, it wasn’t like the loaves and fishes – they disappeared quickly, and I was lucky to come away with one small packet for myself.
Twenty minutes later, the hard rain was over. Antonio and I were lucky to have stopped and realized the storm that was approaching. The strength of that wind and rain easily could have knocked us into an oncoming truck.
