Posted Mar 14, 2010 in For Him, Kontests | 8 Comments

The Lightbeam Jacket from Nau

Blogging on my own site has turned into a full time job, and one I love. Over the last 10 months of building my empire at Truth of a Liar, I have received a lot of products from various companies. I won’t lie, the hookups are great. But there are only so many USB keys one person can own. With that said, I have decided to start doing a bunch of giveaways on my weekly posts on yK.com, starting with this. The Lightbeam Jacket from Nau maximizes the ultralight packability of their water resistant Lightbeam fabric. Lightbeam’s 100% recycled polyester is woven in a soft pucker weave that sits coolly on the skin, provides wind and weather protection, and is treated with a DWR for water repellency. Versatile in style and performance, the Nau Lightbeam Jacket features an offset front zipper and zip away hood. I want to thank Caitlyn for sending me out one. If you are interested in owning this jacket, simply tell us your best story of getting caught in rain & join our Facebook group to earn your chance to win this amazing jacket from Nau.

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  1. Basically I used to live in south Florida and I rode a moped cause it wa easy and cheap. Coming home from work one day. I was trying to beat the rain home and I get pulled over for Rollin a stop sign. So I deal with getting the ticket and then I proceed to go home after that soo it starts to pour and I get drenching soaked head to toe on the last part of my ride home. I woulda made it if I didn’t get stoped by the cops. So you should pick me to win the jacket.

  2. When I bought my first bass guitar I went down to a friends place to jam for a couple of hours. My first bass came in a starter kit, so you have a shitty Squier by Fender bass and a Rumble 15 amp, it was light enough to carry around, bass in one hand and the amp in the other. Took me around 15 minutes to get to my friends house. After jamming a little, I left for my house and it was still sunny outside. Halfway through, it started raining like hell, I wasn’t going to turn around, so I started running, well It made it really hard to run carrying a bass and an amp, so it was more like trying to walking fast. Arrived home soaking wet; still sunny outside, the rain started to clear up as soon as I got in the house. I had to get my bass and amp repaired for water damage, only two days after I got it. The rain soaked my bass guitar even with the case. Let’s say mother wasn’t happy.

  3. An old roommate, his buddy from VCU and I decided to go rafting on the lake near Christopher Newport one sunny evening a couple years back. Aside from the couple of joggers we startled by screaming at them from far away safe in our inflatable transportation, all seemed to be going perfectly settling. We decided to stay out until the sun was settling under the horizon to enjoy a fine hand rolled cigarette the Richmond cat brought along. Leisurely paddling back in our hazed induced state of mind, we were shortsighted of the clouds rolling in like a stampede of dark gray horses. Then just about fifteen minutes from arriving to shore, thunder and rain were almost instantaneous with the extinguishment of our cigarette. The water filled the raft and completely soaked us, seeping into our socks and damaging our kicks. We got out to land and quickly ran over to our buddy’s car, only to find out he locked his keys inside in the ignition. Our house was easily two hours away walking distance, not an easy task with the raft, so we had to sit underneath it during a fifteen minute lecture from our pals mother over the phone. She decided to pick him up though and take him two towns over to Portsmouth to grab his spare key. Needless to say, me and my roommate definitely had some interesting conversation in that span of time.

  4. This story was day 6 of a 15 day self-supported bike tour on a beautiful Thursday morning deep in southern Georgia. The task for the day was to ride 128 miles to get to the opposite side of Pensacola, Florida to take the Gulf Coast to New Orleans. The weather had been beautiful thus far, but there was a hurricane brewing off the coast of Florida that was set to make landfall in a few days, so we knew we needed to get past Pensacola to avoid it. The rolling hills were lovely and the day was beautiful and sunny. We made it all the way through Pensacola without a hitch, stopped at the local grocery store to grab some grub and headed off to find out dwelling for the evening. Prior to this we had no problems setting up our two person tent in random ditches, backyards, fields. This night was turning out to be quite difficult to find a safe spot. Nightfall was coming quickly and we hadn’t the slightest idea where we were going to camp. Thats when everything took a turn for the worst. In the south storms brew quickly and you can get caught in some nasty stuff. Sure enough, we were about to get stuck. Loaf of bread in hand and dinner not yet made we sprinted frantically through the town trying to fnid a place to sleep. We eventually made our way to some sort of honor system state park. We tossed our bikes over the fence and the sky opened up on us. As we rolled through the muddy clay roads our tires starting to sink deeper and deeper into the mud we found what would be our shelter for the evening, the public bathroom. We managed to pitch our tent inside of the bathroom using the bathroom stalls to tie off to and made the best of it. It might seem silly to pitch a tent inside of a bathroom but as soon as we walked in we saw a shedded 6ft snake skin in the rafters and an unhealthy amount of bugs flying through the air. This jacket may not have kept me from having to pitch a tent in a gnarly bathroom, but I would have been dry that night when I climbed into my sleeping bag…the smell still lingers to this day.

  5. My first year teaching I rode my bike to work. Working in MN this always ment my 15 mile ride had the potential for weather changes. But on this one day in the spring I wasn’t prepared for the weather that awaited my ride home. The forecast called for temps in the 50′s and a light breeze. By about noon that forecast looked like a complete farce, because it had started to snow. By 4 when I was heading home there was over an inch on the ground, including the road, but I didn’t plan on sleeping at the school so I headed out. Freezing my butt off, by about halfway through the ride things got more interesting, as the snow turned to a downpour of rain. I hobbled home but from that day forward I always packed an extra jacket.

  6. I live in NW Washington. ride a bike. I’ve prob spent 62.8% of my life in the rain.
    Xp

  7. So here is the context; Under-Pressure is an annual graffiti jam hosted in downtown Montreal. Every year hundreds of artists come through and paint a gigantic mural together, drink, eat, smoke and chop heads.

    This year, me and my crew decided to put up a colossal paint-roller graffiti peice on a building close by, so as to collect all the fame points availible for the year. We headed up there 2 weeks in advance and started working on the fill.

    4 hours of painstaiking work later, our paint roller breaks and goes flying to the ground, 8 stories below. I quickly stunt-run it down, grappling twisted ladder beams as I slide my way to the street pavement. My heart is racing because this is making our project extremely vulnerable to public attention below.
    By the time I get down some street punks are using our roller to write some retarded drug-anthem on the sidewalk. I grab the shit like an olympic torch runner on crack, and quickly race up, only to realise the pole has busted, so we have no reach to finish the bottom of our peice.

    We head home, and endure day after day of rain, hoping the sun will clear up in time to let us finish.
    The day before the jam, the sun shows its snotty little face and we do a victory dance while tugging the peace-pipe in glorious extasy.

    Its 3AM, we are just finishing the final touches on the peice, when lo and behold, the rain gods decide its time to take a piss.
    Drenched in sudden torrential downfall, me and my acolyte sob silently as we witness our weeks hard earned graffiti spot melt away, shedding colors like masquara in a bukkake film.

    Socks are ruined. Shoes, forget it. My shitty painting jacket is rotting like a dead log, and my heart feels like that scrap of garbage making its way to the drain on a river of rust colored rainwater.

    This amazing jacket will make it all better though!
    This joint is so butter, I d have breakfast with it!
    Classic look, functionality on lock, goddamn i want this one!

    Peace to Kloset and T.O.L.!

  8. During the summers I work as a Horseback Riding Instructor/Wrangler at a camp for kids located near Colorado’s Rocky Mountain National Park. At the end of each term after the campers have gotten well acquainted with the horses and learned most of the ins and outs of being on the mountain trails of the National Park, my fellow wranglers and I take thirteen campers on a three day overnight horse pack.
    In Colorado and especially within the Rocky Mountains the weather can change in an instant, it can go from sunny and hot, to rainy and frigid within a matter of minutes. The first two and half days were gorgeous, it was warm and breezy, until just before lunchtime on the final day, the campers were playing Frisbee in the pasture and my fellow counselors and I were about to capture the horses that were lazily eating grass in the gated corral. As my partners and I headed to collect the horses so that we could saddle them before lunch the wind picked up and the sky began to grow really frighteningly dark. We knew we had to hurry, just as I grabbed the first horse and put the halter on to it face, I heard the first crash of thunder. Just so you know horses aren’t exactly fond of inclement weather and are as equally opposed to being tied to a fence and saddled when a storm is a’ brewing. The claps of thunder grew closer and our pace to grab the now antsy horses quickened. We captured all sixteen horses and one of the counselors went to go prepare lunch for the boys whilst, my partner Dan and myself, continued to saddle and bridle the horses. As I walked out of the tact shed, with the first saddle and blankets the sky just let loose the most incredible amount of rain I had seen in a long time. I was wearing four layers layers, a duster (a long jacket made from oilcloth) another “waterproof” jacket, a long sleeve base layer and a t-shirt, within five minutes I was soaked through, my boots were heavy with thick brown mud, and the lower portion of my jeans were sticking to my legs. Hoping the weather would clear, we continued to saddle the horses, one by one, Dan and I tightened every cinch and bridled every horse. The horses looked miserable, and we looked like we had just taken very long very cold showers with our clothes on. Once we finished saddling, Dan and I joined the boys for lunch ensuring the boys the weather would clear up soon (because as fast as weather moves in Colorado we were likely to have sun within the next five minutes). it did not stop raining.
    It was getting later, and we knew we’d have a longer ride back to main camp, there was a slight lull in the rain and we used that opportunity to load the boys and their gear onto the horses. Luckily, the thunder and lightening had subsided. We grabbed the chance and we finally left the campsite. The rain lessened to a slight mist but was still windy, damp and cold, the boys were silent (which is rare for ages 11-13 year old boys). I was leading the pack and although lacking any dry spot on my body, I was trying to stay positive. This positivity, however went out the window when another wall of rain hit us when we got onto the final stretch of the trail leading into the backside of camp. Being off a horse in the rain is one thing, but being on a horse in the rain and being followed by thirteen campers is a whole different story.
    This final stretch of the trail should have taken us about thirty minutes and we would have been back at camp. But this particular day it took two miserably slow hours. Everything that could go wrong went wrong, on that final stretch. Gear fell off pretty much every saddle, a couple of kids took fall off their horses (they got right back on to their credit), some boys were crying and the horses were just FREAKING out. Because as much as I wanted to get back to the barns those hoses wanted nothing more than to be undercover of a tin roof eating hay. After the long toiling tow hours of that final stretch we made it back. We were the last group in that day and I was beat, I was on and off my horse no less the fifty times that ride, my legs were killing me. And all I wanted was a hot shower.
    I figured the boys would say they had such a miserable time, and never wanted to see, let alone get on a horse again. But all the boys were abuzz at the dinner tables telling their friends who weren’t on the three day overnight about what an amazing time they had and how cool and exciting it was to ride in a monsoon. Even the ones who didn’t LOVE the experience had a story to tell. Which to me felt like an achievement. All in all, I hope I NEVER have to be that wet on a horse again, I felt good and accomplished that night, but I felt even better knowing that the next day was going to be my day off.

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