Fred Astaire, B.J. Thomas, and Me

Most philosophical questions don't necessarily concern the weather. While, I'm sure, there are folks who try to evaluate patterns in light of horrific weather events, it's always in somewhat of a scientific way. There are no really big unanswerable questions about what causes the weather. I think most of those parameters have been rather well defined. Drought, tsunamis, blizzards, tornadoes: all can be rationally explained through logical theory. There is one thing about rain that I would like to know however, and it occurred to me again today as I biked home from work in it.
While the skies were somewhat cloudy when I left for work, and the forecaster noted a chance for precipitation, I didn't bother dressing for it even though I did take the precaution of covering my bike seat when I got to work: no sense taking foolish chances, and a wet bike seat is among the most icky of feelings, especially an wet gel seat.
So, when I emerged later in the day to find a steady rainfall occurring, I thought briefly about waiting it out or calling for a ride and getting the bike later; however, I decided that a little water wouldn't hurt me so I hopped aboard and pedaled homeward. The only question involved how fast to go. Obviously, slick corners and potential mudholes were to be considered, but the larger question remained: would I get wetter if I rode fast (encountering drops I would otherwise have missed and getting splattered to a greater degree but spending less actual time outdoors) or at a more casual pace (missing the big splashes but being in actual rain longer) ?
The question plagued me all the way home; I constantly adjusted the speed and tried to ascertain if I FELT wetter at a certain cadence...but it really didn't help. I couldn't feel the difference, and the "plop, plop, plop" on my helmet gave no indication of differences, so I was really stymied.
I was still soaked when I got home.
Somebody knows the answer...just not me.