Chasing rainbows

I was cycling home from work the other day in very strange weather: hot sun, but with a light sprinkle of rain as if I was at the very edge of a lawn sprinkler. It was refreshing but oddly unrealistic, reminding me of nothing so much as the taxi queues outside Vegas casinos with their obscenely wasteful continuous spritzing of water. As I whizzed down the hill, I began craning my neck to see if a rainbow had formed, before deciding that my attention was probably better focused on the road ahead. Still, I thought, it wouldn't be such a bad way to go: hit by a car while searching the heavens for ephemeral beauty. Then I realised that in such an eventuality no-one would actually know why I was staring in the wrong direction, and would probably just assume that I was distracted by a girl in a tight top. Mind you, if I had been, that wouldn't be a bad way to go either; and I have to confess that He died as he lived: chasing rainbows is all very well, but He died as he lived: distracted by boobs would probably be more apt.