The romantic appeal of walking in the rain with your sweetheart has been grossly overstated.
Big, cold drops hitting the back of your white cotton shirt and plastering it, one blotch at a time, to your increasingly clammy skin. The curtain of drips falling from the brim of your broad-brimmed hat (your white sun hat, worn because the morning was so bright and sunny when you left the house). The creeping wetness across the back of your shorts.
And above all, the squishiness inside your walking shoes. That would be the nearly new, rather expensive “country hikers” you bought for their ruggedness without thinking there was any need for them to be waterproof. Not that it would matter if they were. Whatever water is seeping into them from below is insignificant compared to the amount trickling down your bare legs and filling the shoes from the top. Your socks gradually become sodden sponges, and with every step you can feel water spurting out from beneath your toes.
Gene Kelly notwithstanding, there is nothing romantic about any of this.
Okay, time to stop whining and get back to reality. We merely went out for a walk on a sunny summer morning and happened to get caught by a fast-moving shower that sneaked up on us from an unexpected direction. It poured for the last half-mile of our walk, then, having drenched us thoroughly, stopped just as we turned into our own driveway. I swear that last peal of thunder was really a deep-throated chuckle.
But we weren’t out on the road on a motorcycle. Or driving cattle. Or hauling bales. Or checking up on elk or buffalo or tourists. Or standing at a construction site holding a “slow” sign for drivers that splashed us as they went by. Or doing any of the outdoor jobs that don’t stop just because the people doing them might get a little—or a lot—wet. Jobs that some of us, sitting at our nice dry desks in nice dry clothes after our nice warm showers, don’t have to do.
Thanks to them all. May they be blessed with good raincoats, waterproof boots, and dry socks.
Practical Prairie Woman 
Your article today comes just as I have changed clothes after spending 6 hours at the rest stop at I-29 and highway 50, helping serve breakfast of pancakes, sausages, coffee and orange juice to travelers. This is an annual fund raiser for our W.H. Over museum here in Vermillion. We had just set up the grill, got the coffee pots filled and plugged , the juice ready, the tables set up and here comes the thunder and hard rain. People scampered into the ramadas at the rest stop with their food. The rain let up for a bit but all forenoon it would shower and let up. I was soaked to the skin, running back and forth between doing what ever it took to bring food and drink to the customers. I was not alone, as the 8 other people in our group looked a bit bedraggled , especilly the lady who’s hair took a beating. It is impossible to carry an umbrella and balance two plates of cakes and sausage so the result was a dousing. But the travellers were attracted by our offer of food and as the rain prompted them to stop , especially all the bikers heading for Sturgis , our sales were better than some clear days. No one complained about the rain as it was welcome as we did need the moisture. The first thing I did when I got home was change cloths as I was chilled. Feels great. We will have two more days of this activity, and even though the rain was welcome I would prefer it to hold of more of the same until Monday. So I share your experience in the rain.
I was home, comfortably doing laundry and drinking hot coffee….watching it rain off and on. Sometimes it pays to be a person on the sidelines of activities. Ginny
Frank, I don’t think you quite “shared our experience.” We were just walking, but you were working your wet socks off for a good cause–more power to you! And Ginny, I’m with you on the occasional advantages of staying on the sidelines.