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10 things motorcops hate about summer

When you walk outside into a wall of oppressive heat, please say a little prayer for all us motorcops


By Melissa Littles

Most of the year finds me loving being assigned to a motorcycle. After nearly a decade, I feel confident I can speak for most of my two-wheeled associates in emphatically stating the following:

We. Hate. Summer.

Please God no!
Please God no!

Sure, summer finds you planning lovely family vacations and pool parties. Well, bully for you. Summer finds us sweating in places we didn’t know had the ability to sweat. When, at the end of your shift, you are able to wring out your T-shirt, you know summertime is here.

In the East Bay Area of California, where I live and work, summer temps range from the mid-90s to well over 100. Honestly, though, once the temp tips north of somewhere in the upper 80s, it may as well be 117 degrees being assigned to the motorcycle.

Here are 10 things motorcops hate about summer:

1. The sun

Source of life-giving light? Nope. Source of the aforementioned sweaty [insert unspeakable body part here]. Listen, I love the sun from about the end of September to mid-May. Otherwise, it can pretty much suck it.

2. No school traffic

As a guy whose sole purpose is to write tickets, less traffic makes it more challenging. It takes me a whole extra couple hours of work to hit my personal daily goal!

3. Beat cops

Listen, jackass, you have an air conditioner. Nobody gives a shit if you think it’s hot. Wait...you had to get out of the car for two whole minutes and then return to the Hoth-like atmosphere in your car?! You poor bastard!

4. The sun

Seriously...f you, sun.

5. Kevlar

I recognize and appreciate the fact that Kevlar plays a significant role in potentially keeping me alive. The wife appreciates it as well. That being said, though, Kevlar doesn’t breathe. At all. By the end of the day, my torso smells like rabid jaguar shit in a rain forest.

6. Radiant heat

Those motorcycles we ride get hot. I remember the first three years I was assigned to motors, I rode a Harley. That friggin’ thing threw off about 300+ degrees of radiant heat. Because I wasn’t hot enough? Oh, and how about those heat waves radiating off the pavement my boots are standing on whilst sitting on the motor or, God forbid, directing traffic? What’s the source of that radiant heat, again? THE F’N SUN!!

7. Polyester/Wool blend uniform shirts

I guess the concept here went something like this: “Well, we know Kevlar doesn’t breathe, so we may as well make it policy to use a poly/wool blend that doesn’t breath either. We shouldn’t even consider some kind of professional looking cotton polo. We can’t have those uppity motors safe and comfortable!”

8. The drought (specific to my fellow Lower Left Coast motorcops)

Now you may think this is a weird thing to hate for a motor-specific reason. I’m not saying that is necessarily inaccurate, but consider this: All I can think of when rivulets of sweat are finding themselves moving southward to the nether regions of my body is of popping a damn fireplug and taking a full-on blast of nice, crisp, cool water right to the dome. No can do, though...it’d be “irresponsible”. Hell, I can’t even soak my head with a garden hose whilst standing over my dying lawn without taking sneers from curmudgeonly neighbors!

9. Morning court

The mornings are bearable. The sun has not reached anywhere near its evil zenith at which it literally bakes my insides. But when traffic court is at 0830 hours and it’s supposed to hit 90 by 1000 hours, it completely screws me for the rest of the day.

10. The sun

You may be thinking to yourself, “I think MC is just padding this list to get to a nice even number.” You aren’t completely off base. That notwithstanding, however, please understand the depth with which I deplore the summer sun. It is a deep and abiding disdain.

When you walk outside into a wall of oppressive heat, please say a little prayer for all us motorcops as we uncomfortably (but still whilst looking badass) make our way through the worst season of the year.

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