That Man is Half Naked!

For the past few years, as I've followed my usual cycling route through the backroads of Boston's more rural surroundings, I've often seen a trim, bald, elderly man on an old bicycle taking a leisurely ride. What makes him especially noticable is that he wears only large glasses, red shorts, sandals and a countenance that suggests a man very much at peace with himself. Every time I see him I vow to stop and talk with him: surely, I think, there must be a story here.

Well, yesterday was my day. I saw the gentleman stopped by the side of the road for a drink of water. So, I glided over, removed my helmet and told him what I've just told you. His name is Dan Kan and he lived most of his life in Holland before moving to Israel and the United States. He's a mathemetician by profession, a good profession, he notes, because you can do it for as long as you live and, he confided, with some cardiovascular disease and borderline diabetes, he didn't expect to be alive at 80. He will soon turn 81. He rides every day in the good weather, usually 20-25 miles.

"Your cardiologist must be very happy that you're getting all that exercise," I said. I often have a hunch that a conversation is going to lead to some unexpected connection, usually one that is less than the proverbial six degrees of separation. "Who is your cardiologist?" I asked.

"Brian Bilchik," he replied, "but it used to be Tom Graboys." Voila!

I had just helped Tom Graboys publish a memoir of the Parkinson's disease and dementia that forced his early retirement from medicine (the book is "Life in the Balance: A Physician's Memoir or Life, Love and Loss with Parkinson's Disease and Dementia" from Union Square Press), an event that led Dan Kan to start seeing Tom's partner, Brian Bilchik at Boston's famed Lown Cardiovascular Center. Coincidentally, from 1998-2000 I worked at the Lown Center as Executive Director of the research foundation that is based there. I've known both Tom and Brian for many years.

What are the chances?

I was always struck by the elegant simplicity of Dan on his bike. No fancy wheels, no fancy bike clothes. Just a half naked man enjoying the outdoors unencumbered, so it seemed, in every way. To be able to do that when I'm his age... I always thought.

But I asked Dan about the danger of riding helmetless. He shrugged it off. Perhaps when you are nearly 81 and living days that you see as a bonus anyway you can take your chances.

Then Dan gave me the once over in my lycra bike shorts, clip-in shoes, and colorful biking jersey. In his heavily accented English he said with a smile, "you look rather generic." It was a wonderful choice of words: I guess I looked like every other suburban Lance Armstrong wannabe who had passed him over the years. I explained the practical benefits: more comfort in the saddle, greater visibility to passing cars, but he was not persuaded. And truth be told, I sometimes wish I could throw caution to the wind and ride as he does: half naked. Just me, my glasses, and a pair of shorts. Oh yes, don't forget the bike.