The train doors open and the cold rushes in. With my seat right next to opposite door, almost straight in the path of the freezing wind, the cold hits me head on, washes over me from my feet all the way up to my head, clinging to me like a wet blanket. It's that special kind of cold that you only get in subtropical regions, that dampness the creeps in through your clothing and chills you through and through like nothing else can. Even the raw, biting cold of Sweden's frozen north doesn't feel as uncomfortable as this.
It’s just pouring down, heavy drops patter incessantly on the visor of my helmet and although I’m dressed for battle with elements, rain jacket, rain pants, and big floppy shoe covers that are impossible to walk in, there is till considerable discomfort. The drops sting my lips every time I accelerate, my gloves are already wet through and through, and there is a coldness in my crotch which I sincerely hope isn’t water soaking through my pants. Sometimes, on a good road in good weather, riding a motorcycle can be thoroughly enjoyable; swooping smoothly from turn to turn as you carve your way through a … Read the rest
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