Yesterday, I saw something on the bike path that I’ve never seen before in the dozen years we’ve been coming down to this part of Florida. In pre-COVID times, the bike paths here are busy, and they haven’t been empty this time around either. I’ve seen unusual things on these paths: strange bikes, unusual attire, older couples on hover-boards.
Some of the bike paths are narrow, especially those within the planned communities. But alongside the roads that connect those commute the world at large, they are roomier, wider. We were driving along one of those roads yesterday watching the bikers and walkers when suddenly we saw them: two ladies atop full-sized horses, trotting lazily along the bike path.
Horses? On a Florida bike path?
We past them in an instant, and they were gone, out of sight. But last night, while laying in bed, I thought about those ladies on the horses. Did they wake up that morning, and say to themselves, “Instead of biking, let’s take the horses out for a stroll this morning!” It occurred to me that I know of nowhere nearby where the horses might, well, horse around. Do they keep these horses in their back yard? In the Florida Room, perhaps?
And as I drifted off to sleep, my last waking thought was: If I thought horses were on odd site on the bike path, what of the biker, zooming along around a gentle curve, who suddenly rides through a large, steaming pile of horse dung?
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