Shorts, Smiles, and Stares on the Coffee Ride

The shorts definitely weren't mine. It was just below freezing when I left the house this morning, although also calm and sunny. Riding out of town was plain easy, except that you had to watch for icy spots. After a week of commuting it's nice anyway to feel a lighter bike underneath you and nothing on your back. There was a beautiful, but undoubtedly very thin layer of ice on the Hilversums Kanaal. It doesn't look as if it will get a chance to grow. Then riding through Loosdrecht I had to do a double-take, because wasn't that a guy in shorts, passing on the other side of the road? It was. He was on a racing bike, but in spite of his cycling shorts didn't look like a regular cyclist. There is, of course, nothing regular about riding in shorts on a morning like this. Riding by the Loosdrecht temperature gauge a minute later, it was exactly at the freezing mark. But maybe I'm the weirdo (with booties over my winter shoes, double lobster gloves, insulated tights, and a balaclava), because on the way home, there he was again: the old guy with his wife on the tandem, wearing no hat or anything. I was running a little early, and they may have been a little late, so I didn't run into them until just before Nieuwersluis. But it was exactly as the previous times, in spite of the fact that I had decided beforehand that I'd crack a big smile if I saw him again. And I swear to God, he not only looked at me funny again--as if I was some creature from another planet--but as I smiled at him, he turned his head to watch me ride by, never changing his, shall I say, critical expression. Will he stop looking once I don't wear the balaclava any more? Should I greet him, for example by saying: pretty cold, huh? I have a whole week to think about it. He has definitely gotten into my head, probably just by being his own Dutch self.