All Wet

The wettest I’ve ever gotten while riding was one sweltering August Saturday a few years ago here in Southern Germany. My riding buddy Manfred and I were making an all-day test ride of a Triumph Tiger 955i and an Aprilia Caponord, courtesy of the local Triumph dealer. We had already done one big loop which brought us back to neighboring town Amtzell, which happened to be hosting an off-road endurance race in their gravel pit. We parked the bikes and walked to the pits to find some friends from the local BMW shop who had entered with a few old GS’s (and who were actually doing pretty well).

After an hour cooking under the hot summer sun, we decided it was time to rack up some more kilometers on the test bikes. As we were putting on our jackets Manfred glanced at the towering cumulus all white and cottony, pointed at my Cordura jacket and asked “Is that waterproof?” I shrugged. Having only recently moved from Southern California, I’d never found out. I seemed to remember something about it being waterproof (or was that the liner?) but I had never tested it in actual rain. The jacket is made by the German manufacturer Held, and it has zippered air vents on the back, shoulders, and running the full length of the sleeves. On the back in yellow stitching it proudly proclaims “Air Vent.” Looking at the darkening sky I was hoping it would keep me dry in a shower, at least long enough to find some shelter. Um, Cordura’s waterproof, isn’t it?

We headed off on the bikes. One minute it was sunny and I was sweating inside my helmet, wishing my jacket had a few more vents to open. The next minute the sky went black, the wind picked up, the temperature dropped and the floodgates opened. My jacket needed a new name: “Water-Vent.” In under three minutes I was about as wet as if I’d jumped in a swimming pool. Chilly too. Even if I’d had the waterproof liner (or a rain suit) with me there wasn’t time to find a place to pull over and change. My Tourmaster overpants are more or less waterproof, but not if the water is flowing in through the jacket and down the inside of the waist. I was soon squishing in my seat, feeling rivulets of cold water run down my legs.

Fortunately, I was only ten minutes from home. I went home and got dried off, hanging up my dripping clothes in the garage while my wife laughed. Half an hour later it was 72° in light rain, the clouds breaking up. I put on my cheap no-name waterproof jacket – cheap because it has no vents – and my waterproof Dianese trousers and hit the road again. Can’t waste a good summer day, so away I went. An hour later the streets were starting to dry and I was wishing for some vents to open. But at least I was dry.

Fast forward two riding seasons here, and I’ve learned a lot about changeable weather. I always ride with either a waterproof jacket or a packed rainsuit, ready for anything. Last July in Italy, riding again with Manfred, he on his Sprint ST, me on my R1150GS, I got to find out how ready I really was. It was once again a sweltering hot day and the cumulus clouds were building up to darken the sky. I was once again clad in my Air Vent jacket, vents open, feeling pretty smart about having such nice airflow keeping me cool while poor Manfred must be suffering in his expensive unvented Gore-Tex. As the fifty-caliber raindrops starting pelting down I pulled over under the eaves of a roadside residence, searching my mind for which side case held the rain jacket while three toothless old women pleaded with me from the doorway to come inside, “Signore, signore, oh signore…” I waved and smiled, determined to demonstrate my Boy Scout level of preparedness. Fear not, ladies, I’ll be dry-clad and underway in but a moment.

While I fumbled with the keys the wind shifted so that the eaves no longer offered any protection, creating some urgency to get my rubber rain coat on. This caused me to forget my careful packing job and I opened the wrong sidecase. The contents shifted, and I had to fight to smash everything back inside to get it closed. Correct sidecase finally located, I removed the never-been-opened rain coat and tried to get it on.

Problem – it was completely zippered and velcro’d closed, both up the front and at the sleeves. Clawing and ripping at the evil closures with wet fingers, I struggled to get it over my increasingly wet jacket, which was once again venting more water than air. Rain jacket finally on, I looked down at the sidecase lid which was flopped open perpendicular to the precipitation like a bucket. It was rapidly filling with rain, soaking my toilet kit and clean clothes. Fack! I struggled with closing the lid on all the shifted (and now wet) contents while the rain streamed down the crack between my helmet and collar.

I then tried putting on my waterproof winter gloves, and found that because of their fleecy lining they were almost impossible to pull on over wet hands. I think that’s when I started to cry. What should have taken one minute or less had now taken five and I was both rain- and sweat-soaked, frustrated and embarrassed. Thankfully, the old women had long since given up on me and gone back inside. I couldn’t see them anyway through my steamed up visor.

I got restarted and set off to find Manfred about a mile ahead standing dry under the canopy of a gas station, smirking in his Gore-Tex jacket. By the time I got there I was sweating through every single pore of my body, as the rubber over-jacket allows not a molecule of air to enter for any cooling effect whatsoever. It’s a well-known fact that if you’re ever cold you can put your gummy on and you’ll be warm in no time. But what about when you’re already warm and you put it on? Can you spell S-A-U-N-A? Jeez, I’d hate to spend as much money as Manfred did on a Gore-Tex jacket, and then be all comfortable and everything.

I’m in the market now for a new summer jacket to replace the old Air Vent, which has seen better days. I’m a tight bastard, so I flinch every time I glance at the price tag of a real Gore-Tex jacket. Ever the delusional, I have myself fairly convinced that I can buy a non-waterproof vented jacket and be smart enough not to be caught out again. Bet on it?