The Man Who Lives At The Bottom Of My Hill

The man who lives at the bottom of my hill never wears sleeves. Ever.
Tonight, on my way back from the station, he was doing some work under the bonnet of his car. It's extremely cold, frost is already settling on parked cars, still he wore no sleeves. A couple of weeks ago there was about an inch and a half of snow, it was minus four, still he wore no sleeves. He has a beard, smokes a pipe and wears no sleeves.
That's why the man who lives at the bottom of my hill is the hardest man I know.