January in Florida. Keep Calm. Ride On. Carry Kleenex.

Wish I could say I don't remember the last time I had a cold.  Unfortunately, I do remember.  The little niggling of the sore throat on the first day, the hacking cough on the last.  The congestion in between. 

Oh yeah.  This is a cold, all right.  

I haven't had a cold since 2005.  So forgive me for being a big baby about it.  Wah.

It's a Friday afternoon and a neighbor is hoisting sail and heading out the channel.  Meanwhile I sit here with my Kleenex and my cough, deciding whether a short bike ride would kill me. 

And the short answer is - No, it will not.  So I will go.  In a minute, OK?

First, let's talk about that.      

A week ago, a big guy with a little dog tried to lure away the ten year old neighbor girl.  Although attracted by the dog, the girl thought better of getting near the guy, and ran for it.  Well done, kid.  And no fear.  Back outside playing the next day, I see.  Good for you.

Yeah, it sucks to be stuck in the house - for any reason.  

So yesterday, even though it was dim and gloomy, I took my snuffly nose out for a nice, easy walk up to the beach.   

Not much happening up there.  A few cars on A1A.  Seagulls. And one middle aged guy crouched down over something on the sidewalk by the bike rack.  When he saw me looking at him, he shoved whatever it was into his bag and jumped up.  

At first he tried pretending he was mute by grunting and signing.  Then suddenly he changed tactics and wouldn't shut up.  Neither approach made sense - except that it was a rainy, gloomy day and the beach park was completely deserted.  It was just him and me.  There was no doubt about getting my attention. 

So I have this weirdo sidling up to me, suddenly asking irrational questions in rapid fire:  "Do you know what time it is?  Do you know Jim, the county commissioner?  Are you an American?"  

A weird guy.  The deserted surroundings.  Or maybe having a cold and not much fight or flight in my system.  Sometimes you just don't feel like dealing with a nutcase.  

Damn it.  No beach for me today. 

Into back-pedal mode. 

I turned on my heel to go back the way I came, away from the beach and toward civilization. 

I keep walking.  He keeps talking.  

I hesitated a few seconds at the curb before crossing A1A, then stepped out to cross.  He was alongside quickly and stepped out to cross along with me.  

So, I took another step - backwards.  Then stood and watched, as he kept going. 

I don't think he realized he had been faked out until he reached the other side.  He turned around and stood glaring back at me from across the A1A traffic.  

There were plenty of cars, so I'd bought myself a little time.  Hooray for the cell phone.  I got mine out and made a show of taking his picture.  That was really all it took.  He turned tail and took off into the old base housing.    

The picture I got was actually crappy.

But he didn't need to know that.

Well OK.   He seemed gone all right.  But just the same, unwilling to take a chance that the pursuit might resume, I walked the long way home - out of Kleenex, and a little resentful by the time I got there.  Stupid cold.  Stupid weirdo.  

This week, on the Tuesday night ride, we could hear the sirens from the fire station as we got down toward Malabar Road.  It's not that uncommon.  Except you expect to hear the sirens getting more and more distant as the trucks take off for where-ever the emergency might be.  The big surprise was running straight into fire engines heading into the scrub just as we came out of the trailhead.  Whoa! 

Not just that, but the driver stopped the truck, rolled down the window, and yelled, "Where is it?  Two thirds of the way down, you said?"  

Uh well, since we didn't report the fire, we weren't much help. 

But of course we were unable to resist, and we followed the trucks, cruising slowly in the dark, all the way to the end of the pavement, looking for signs of a fire.  My nose wasn't much good, but Semi sniffed the air.  Nope.  No smoke.  Just diesel.

False alarm.  But Somebody called it in.  Somebody wanted the excitement of fire trucks, flashing lights, and sirens.  Somebody on our trails.  In the dark.  Probably hiding in the brush to watch. 

This time the show is modest.  Two fire trucks and five mountain bikes.  Next time... a real fire?  

I just hope my nose is back in working order by next week.

OK, so yeah.  This is Florida.  

Where crazy people are common.  And the common cold is not.    

It's up to sixty, sunny January degrees.  As good as it's going to get today.  So, will a short bike ride kill me?   

No.  No, it will not. 

Well, probably not. 

At least, with three crazies already chalked up for this week, the odds are in my favor.  I probably won't need to come home the long way today. 

Just the same, I'm taking extra Kleenex.