I nearly baked myself in my car the other day. The heat tends to sneak up on you, here in North Carolina’s piedmont. It was the first truly hot and humid day that I had the misfortune to be out in, and I had forgotten how long it takes the AC in my car to catch up when the thermometer closes in on triple digits. I sat in my Honda-shaped furnace and thought about how this was only the beginning, alternating hands on the black steering wheel to avoid cooking the real moneymakers; these sports-blogging fingers of mine.
Naturally, as they typically do, I found my thoughts straying to football.