Roger sometimes laughs at me because I get cold easily. He doesn't.
One time we were driving in his old blue topless Land Cruiser, and he sped through a mountain stream that was crossing a dirt road in a narrow sunless canyon. A wall of icy water went up over the windshield and landed on our heads.
While I can be a good sport about things, I wasn't a good sport about that. I was cold. Freezing cold. Roger laughed. I didn't.
At least not until I warmed up again.
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