There are less glamorous aspects to being a biker in this heat though. Like service stations. At these shaded, motorway pit stops, car drivers lounge smugly as they take a brief respite from their air-conditioning. But without the breeze that keeps me cool above 90mph, when I pull up it’s a race against time before litres of sweat cascade down into my boots. Helmet, gloves, scarf and jacket are flung off and trousers pulled down so I can waddle, aerated, inside. I might be faster out on the road, but for quickly buying lunch or not looking like a sex pest, four wheels win hands down.