26 degrees and smoking

Driving seemed an easy choice this morning, being 26 degrees outside with snow slush blocking the space in which I normally ride.  But soon after driving my white whale away from the garage I saw a figure pedaling ahead of me in the distance. It wasn't the green bike lady. Instead it was a man riding eastbound on the side of the road opposing westbound traffic (always suspicious). When I passed him I could see a cigarette in his right hand, his short haircut hatless, and his seemingly thin sweatshirt open to the cold wind. He pedaled patiently and slowly; nonchalantly. Perhaps the cigarette kept him warm, or was metabolic inhibition catalyzed by the coffin nail dangling betwixt his numb fingers? Hard to say, but in either case I admired his choice of transport.