About 8 or 10 years ago, before I was expediting, I had a job that took me many places, one of which was a northwestern North Dakota town called Williston. I headed there for three days at the end of July expecting to get a much needed relief from the balmy southern 90 degree temps of places like Memphis.
I get up there, and... there's no relief. It's 107 degrees, 108 the next day, and 109 the day after that! And it wasn't a dry heat, either. It was suffocating. And they have these things up there that they call mosquitoes, but I don't think they were. They're some kind of warped evolutionary holdover from the Jurassic Period or something. They attacked in swarms. They were viscous little creatures that showed no mercy. And the hotter it got, the the worse they were. Mosquito repellent just got 'em high, and if you smacked one, well, that just got 'em mad. Six months later I got to find out why they were so ravenous.
I go back up there at the end of January for four days, and the high one day was 38 below zero. That's the highest it got, in four days. The lowest it got was 44 below. The wind chill one day was 72 below zero. And people live there.
On purpose.
Me, nor my soccer mommy van, were mentally or physically prepared for that. If I had broken down somewhere and decided to go get help, I wouldn't have made it a quarter mile. After my radiator froze solid in the motel parking lot, and my motor oil solidified, I learned why all the parking spots had electrical outlets.
The good folks of Williston, the same people who chose to build their town on top of a mosquito herd, showed me the proper triple-fat goose down Nanook parka to get, and the gauntlet-type Gore-Tex gloves that they wear when they are out on snowmobiles, or ice fishing, or going to the mail box, as well as the proper boots and socks to wear.
It was quite an education. You'd be surprised what you can do with a coffee can, a roll of toilet paper, and a bottle of rubbing alcohol.