I think my winter coat is at least 15 years old. I don’t think this one from my dad. I used to take a lot of my dad’s coats. I might have gotten this one after college. Function over form. Chicagoland is cold.
So I’ve been driving with it for years. It’s cold out so I wear my winter coat. Only to get into a heated car for forty-five minutes. Usually in unrelenting sun light. It gets miserable fast.
And I end up driving with the heat off (as off as it gets) and the windows cracked.
There are a number of possible remedies to the annoyance but the driving in cold with the windows cracked tickles a nostalgia fancy. It doesn’t conjure any memories exactly just… the particular way of experiencing cold gives a cozy feeling.
Of course, it might also just be knowing I can immediately stop this cold and stifle in three layers of heat.