I always have. Because of my metabolism I've always run hot by nature and preferred it to be a bit colder than most. Growing up, my Mom always had to fight me to put on a coat and I would challenge her by asking why Dad didn't need one. I suspect he was similarly hot-blooded, but that argument never got me very far. Fights over the thermostat in the Watts house were not uncommon but were never fair, and my Mom now has a very nice collection of sweaters.
Overheating has always been a problem for me. In the waking day I can manage my temperature reasonably well. Mercifully, my office is kept at a balmy 62 degrees, but after walking home I almost immediately have to change out of my suit and tie. I lounge around my apartment wearing nothing but shorts much to the chagrin of my roommates in an attempt to keep cool. I sleep heavily, and the temperature in my poorly ventilated bedroom is determined by how long I've been in it and exactly how ajar the door is, so it's not uncommon for me to wake up drenched with sweat in the morning, having overheated under my blankets.
On a motorcycle, you can't always control your temperature. I'm a firm supporter of ATGATT and yes, there are summer jackets and vent zippers and sweat wicking materials, but lane-splitting is annoyingly illegal in my state. This means I'm occasionally sitting stationary, on a heater, wearing leather, in 90 degree heat. This sucks, but I can put up with it. I love bikes for the experience more than the convenience, and showing up somewhere a bit sweaty isn't too bad if I had a blast getting there.
Sometimes, though, that lack of control is surprisingly wonderful. I left the city around 6pm to go for a ride one Monday. It was 'perfect' riding weather, meaning low 70's with a slight breeze. I was well equipped with my summer gloves and leather jacket, vents open, with no liner. The roads I found were good enough that I didn't turn back when it started to get dark. After finding an interesting little port town, I turned back along the relatively deserted 9W. At 60 mph in the low 50 degree weather, the wind chill got pretty strong. It stung when the cold first crept up my fingers and down my neck. Still in the last days of summer, it was an unfamiliar feeling.
After a few minutes, the cold had slipped around my body like an old jacket and I felt quickened. The cold balanced me, quenching my internal heat and leaving me with a cool calm. Feeling so strong a sensation all over, I was focused, my vision and other senses narrowed to the task at hand. The sounds around me faded into the white noise of the wind rush and the thrum of the V-twin. There was nothing in the back of my mind, the ever present to-do list of my life left floating in the dusk. There was only me, the bike, the cold, the road.
