When you think about wearing a cape, what comes to mind? For me, like most Americans, I’m guessing it’s a superhero. Somehow running around in a pair of tights doing heroic things while donning a cape seems normal- at least in a film or in a comic. In real life though, who wears a cape? For now, me, Biker Man!

For the last few weeks of winter and early spring, I’ve been experimenting with bicycle rain capes again. (Strangely, one of the most popular of all Terrapin Tales articles has been a 2012 article about staying dry on a bike using a rubber ducky-like cape. )

Calling a cape a poncho makes perfect sense, but there’s something more dashing, dorky, or Sherlock Holmes-like about calling it a cape, so we’re going to stick with that term. For those of you new to the cape, the big idea is that you wear this giant water-repellent tent and it keeps you comfortable while pedaling in the rain. It’s been more than a decade since I tried out (and returned) the original cape, but the idea of arriving someplace by bicycle in a shower, more comfortably has never gone out of my head.

Then a few months ago, my old friend Andy started toying with the idea of producing them commercially out of his shop, Lord’s Luggage. I couldn’t resist being a beta tester. Would a different design be the latest, greatest thing, that would fill a hole in my bike life?

Prototype one was a thin piece of tan cloth that rolled up smaller than a pair of rain paints or a rain shell. That was a good start.  Considering how light and simple it was, it handily repelled rain from my arms and torso, keeping me surprisingly dry. However, its lack of heft and short length meant, the water rolled off and onto my gloves and blew a bit onto my knees. While better than nothing, it wasn’t good enough to be useful.

My wife immediately dubbed model two “the blueberry” for its cheery color. Constructed of synthetic canvas, it was notably heavier and a bit bulkier than model one, but there was something functional about it, without being too much. Well, in the eyes of the mainstream, a cape is always too much.

“Hey, nice outfit,” a woman hissed as she screamed by in her car. I was impressed she took the time to roll down her window on a cold, wet day to hassle me.

“Did I see you roll by in a cape,” a colleague at work asked with a smirk.

My wife didn’t hold back in telling me that I looked goofy, to which my only reply was, “do I look cool showing up wet, head to toe, in my normal rain gear?”

Still, I persisted. The Blueberry was fun to use- bulky, weird, mostly dry. Playing around with it in different conditions was a kind of empirical science experiment.  Was it more effective in heavy rain or light? (heavy as far as I can see) What impact did speed have on performance? (the slower I went, the drier I stayed- like an umbrella) Which temperature range did I feel best in? (warmer meant I kept cool and didn’t sweat) When would I take it with me? (during uncertain weather and for long rides where regular rain gear would soak through)

I tried to figure out how to make it better- even this larger version got the tips of my gloves a bit damp, but it showed promise. (I eventually sewed an extension onto the front of the cape which kept my hands dry.) Other friends who had different capes said they stayed almost entirely dry- drier than my standard rain gear, even if their shoes got splashed. Everyone agreed that there didn’t seem to be a way to prevent a least a little water from pooling up in the little dip of the cape that forms between your arms as you pedal. That puddle invariably pours off at an inopportune moment- usually onto my foot at a traffic light.

I’m not yet convinced that the cape will be a permanent addition to my standard biking attire, but there’ a sense of something new, something exciting about pushing the boundaries of normal, so I persist in figuring out exactly when to take the cape along. And when I show up someplace, mostly dry, in a flash of blue, I feel a bit like a superhero, even if I’m not wearing tights.