OCT 27, 2008 – 12:00AM

I never could live in San Diego.

I’m sure I’d enjoy the beautiful, sunshiney weather for a while, but the lack of variety would get to me eventually.

I’m a seasons kinda guy.

I like the extremes of summer and winter, the crispness of fall, the promise of hope spring brings. I like the circle of life.

That said, we’re smack-dab in the middle of my least favorite time of year, and I’m not talking fall.

I’m talking tweener season.

As a year-round bike commuter, I detest tweener season.

I like that the leaves are turning and falling and, as was the case Sunday, blowing down the street at 70 mph and turning into serious projectiles.

But tweener season is a tough time for bike commuters, especially those of us who work bad afternoon-night split shifts.

The problem? Wildly varied or just downright unpredictable weather.

Case in point: Friday, I left my house for the five-mile commute to work wishing I had worn shorts. It was sunny and warm.

About halfway to work, I felt a couple of sprinkles.

A mile down the road, the sky opened up.

By the time I made it to work, the temperature had dropped at least 15 degrees, and I was soaked by an unforecast squall.

Case in point two: Sunday, I left my house for work wearing shorts. It was sunny and warm, but a bit breezy. OK, more than a bit; more like, blow-me-off-the-saddle windy.

But warm.

By the time I went home for dinner, it was considerably cooler.

My return to work after dinner was cold.

My ride home mandated a coat, hat and gloves, and I was still cold.

Hence, tweener season: considerably cooler than summer, not as cold as winter; warm during the day, chilly at night.

At first, I considered my dismay to be a reflection of human nature. That is, the nights provide a glimpse of the stark, cold winter to come.

The spring tweener season, by contrast, previews glorious spring warmth just around the bend and, thus, is more uplifting.

But upon reflection, I’ve decided what I like so little about the fall tweener season is that, for the first and only time of the year, I have to consider my wardrobe.

Anybody who has seen me knows I don’t put a lot of thought into my attire.

But tweener season demands attention to dress.

I spend even more time on weather.com.

I have to carry gloves or pack a coat.

I squirrel away extra layers at my desk, just in case.

Sometimes I have to improvise with what I have on hand: shorts paired with gloves, for instance, or a stocking cap with short sleeves.

I’ve considered liberating one of the many blazers the TV guys leave around the office, but even I’m not ready to take dorkiness to that extreme level.

Some old-school cyclists, I’m told, stuff newspapers down their shirts to stay warm, but I have no idea where I’d find a newspaper down here at the newspaper office.

Other times of the year don’t require such deliberateness.

When it’s hot, I wear as little as I can get away with; when it’s cold, I wear as much as I can. Now it’s a crapshoot, and sometimes the proper attire can mean the difference between a good bike ride and a miserable one.

But I also realize it’s all relative.

A couple of months from now, I’m sure I’ll be grousing that it’s just cold – albeit a consistent cold – and chiding myself for bemoaning a relatively balmy 40-degree bluster.

Maybe San Diego wouldn’t be so bad after all.