The Digital Economy

Freezing Assets

My Wife's a good egg, you know. She bought a pair of Buffalo Tornado winter gloves from Paragon Rider Training's shop a month, or so back (with some needlessly expensive boots, I might gripe). Today I was lent the pair to try out in the latest Arctic conditions to hit Southern Hampshire.



My own gloves let me down at 7-degrees; nipping the ends of my fingers sufficiently to cause some pain on re-warming despite the heated grips doing their thing. The wind strikes the gloves leading edge right across the outer tips of the gloves' fingers and, moreover, the thumb.

The Tornado's talk a good fight; a waterproof "tex" liner with Thermolite. Worth a try.

This morning was a pretty chill one. I set out at about 6-degrees and temperatures fell to 2-degrees for a short spell up the Meon valley. The gloves seemed to be doing really well for about 25 miles to the A31 but after this the cold seemed to get through like some insipid leach sucking the warmth and blood from my fingertips. The heated grips had to come on. I'd resisted the heat for some miles while determined to give the gloves a good trial but enough was enough.

It didn't help having to break the things in, either. They were virgin at 7am this morning and soon had my palm and wrists cramping big-time. This discomfort only amplified the cold in my digits. Not bad though; I reckon I'd have wimped out and turned the grips on much earlier with my own (oh, so comfortable) gloves.

On the way back it was not worth trying to be brave as it was obvious from sitting astride Shadowfax that it was going to be a cold and damp night-time ride home. Again, by about 25 miles the tips of my fingers were freezing and it didn't matter what I did in the conformation of my hands to the heated grips. I would have stopped but the (really) slow-in-the-dark trip seemed to be taking an age even though, in the end and after a snail's pace through the dark woods with my 1-lux lamps, the clock showed the trip complete in an hour.

Getting in the house and warming up though was a bit uncomfortable. My digit ends were really sore as the blood under my armpits rewarmed them.

So, what of the gloves? Winter? Do all bikers shut up shop in September, or something? I'd expect anything "Winter" to be good to at least 0-degrees (exclusive of wind-chill [40mph at 10-degrees creates an equivalent wind chill of -10-degrees, if I recall near correctly]. 5-degrees dipping to 2-degrees near did for me with the Buffaloes. Admittedly, the black flippers were fine to half way so they'd like as not do most winter riders, but I really do need something that'll go my distance. There are battery-heated gloves I've seen, but if they're not wired at the tips I'd be wasting my time as well as money.

I recall an "Extreme" program demonstrating that cold hands can be eliminated if the body's core temperature is maintained - even to stupidly insane freezing temperatures that'd render the fingers' flesh to popcycles under normal conditions. A heated jacket was used to heat the core. Maybe that's something else to explore but, to be honest, I didn't feel the cold anywhere except through the finger tips and around the helmet's edge (on my head - my flies were firmly zipped and Velcro'ed, thanks).

The thing is, again, that for all the frugal nature of motorcycling and "green economy" goals I wanted to achieve, I'm beginning to look at spending the kinds of serious money on comforts (and bloody survival) that cease any ideas of off-setting the cost-cutting achieved so far over the car, which has supportive leather seats and a thermostatically controlled "posh-air" heater.

Bottom Line

The bottom line must be that, if I am to continue to be so belligerently intent to ride through the Winter I'm going to have to review the economy of preventing my frozen distal assets being confiscated by Jack.

Aside, by the way, when I Google'd the image of "Buffalo leather gloves" I hit upon the scary World of the Harley rider; a strange mix of adolescent CHiPs play-dressing and machismo-crushing sado-masochistic vestments of gay foreplay. I'm no gay-basher, but I have never failed to be amused by the overly-overt approach to "comming-out" chosen by the YMCA (pop group) style followers. Although I've long associated the Harley rider with the darker side of Camp for fun, I am becoming ever more the convinced that the black leather and tassels, gringo moustaches, shades and leather peaked caps, seat less-leather over-trousers and Western-style bandannas favoured by Harley riders make the thought of riding them myself (the bikes) quite distasteful where I'd be buying in to an image my sexuality and persona just couldn't be comfortable with. Maybe it's just me reacting (late) to an American Holywood thing; a latent laugh on the Blue Oyster Club stereo-type of yore?

It's something I'm going to have to live with though: these gloves are made by Buffalo; they're leather, and they're black. So, if my hands are now dressed in a manner I accuse as "Harley Gay", should I ever allow myself to masturbate again where I have to question the heterosexuality or nationality of my own digits?