A couple weeks ago, I stopped at a gas station to fill my car. As I stood at the pump watching my money slip away, I caught a sudden movement out of the corner of my eye. I looked to the right and saw a large, muscular man barreling toward me. Just running full steam in my direction.
I was about a second from crouching down defensively when he pulled up short at the trash can next to me. And that's when I realized: He wasn't running at me. He decided he needed to throw something away so desperately that he was willing to brave 5-degree Fahrenheit temperatures wearing nothing but a teeny tiny tank top and shorts. He slammed his garbage into the bin, whirled around, and dashed madly back to his car.
Turns out enormous biceps and numerous tattoos (no matter how badass) do not protect against Mother Nature's icy wrath. Only coats do that. And common sense.