Bicycling Keeps 96-Year-Old WWII Veteran Fit and Happy

It’s 9:00 AM on Saturday morning and 96-year-old Floyd Dugan has already finished his calisthenics. Before starting out on the first of his three daily bicycle rides, Dugan enjoys a cup of coffee and a bottle of water in his familiar blue pool chair overlooking San Marco Road. A steady stream of well-wishers pass by; some on foot, others on bicycles, others toot their car horn as they drive by. Dugan waves back enthusiastically, returning their greetings. He seems happy as a clam overlooking the hubbub of his busy residential neighborhood that is nestled in amongst the Marco Healthcare Center, the city racquet center, city hall, the police department and the fire department.

Back in his home in Decatur, Illinois, Dugan had valve replacement surgery when he was 90 years old.

"Six years ago,” Dugan said, "I had a heart valve and six stents put in. According to the heart doctors, I was the first 90-year-old they put a pig valve in. When I went in the hospital, they started me on my calisthenics. Ever since then I’ve been just fine."  

Dugan quit school on his 17th birthday to enlist in World War II.

"I kind of got teed off at my basketball coach,” Dugan said. "I went down to where they were drafting for the service in World War II - I wanted to go in the Navy. There were about 350 of us. It was an all-day deal. After the physical was over, they started calling off names for the Navy. They called about 85 for the Navy. They never called my name. The captain said, ’The rest of you are shipping out. As of now you’re in the Army.”

Dugan spent most of his service time in the Pacific Theater.

“I was on Okinawa on VJ Day,” Dugan said. "We went to South Korea in occupied Japan for four months before I came home.”

As Dugan talks, he is quite often interrupted by folks greeting him and waving.

"There’s some lady in the last month that goes by here with a white ball cap,” Dugan said, "with a big grin and a great laugh. Every time she goes by here, she waves. I don’t know who she is.”

“The family next door comes over on the weekends,” Dugan’s daughter Jackie said, “They say, ‘I think your dad’s the mayor of Marco. People go by and say hi all day long.’"  

"There’s always somebody going by here on accounta that beach,” Dugan said.

Dugan jumps on his bike and rides it right out of the garage. The driveway is a bit steep heading down to the shared-use path in front of his house. The 96-year-old deftly rolls down the hill and hangs a sharp right. From there he rounds the corner at Heathwood and San Marco and heads south before hanging a right on Shenandoah Court. He likes the low traffic street.

“The reason I like this street is there’s no traffic on it,” Dugan says as he spins around the cul-de-sac. “On a three-wheel bike you have to watch the rocks. I think everyone on this street right here knows me. I ride up and down the street about twice a day, usually.”

One of Dugan’s favorite rides is along the linear park trail that parallels the racquet center on its way to Mackle Park. As he rides by the pickleball court he yells out, "Hit the darned ball.”

 “There’s a guy there that likes it when I yell that,” Dugan smiles. "He yells back, “I am hitting it!”

“This is pretty down through here,” Dugan says of the nicely landscaped path. He stops to take a drink before entering Mackle Park. "There’s about 50 ducks at Mackle Park right now,” Dugan remarks. “The other day there was a big turtle on the bank. When I came around the corner that turtle went right back in the lake."

 At the end of the linear park trail are a series of traffic slowing bollards. Dugan doesn’t even slow down as he glides through the bollards. They aren’t much wider apart than the wheels on the back of his bike. 

“You have to be careful with those rear wheels,” Dugan said, as passes through, unphased by the tight fit. 

He enjoys riding through the racquet center parking lot.

“I like checking the license plates,” he said, “lots of different license plates. There’s people from all over who go there.”

Dugan passes his house on the way back, then makes a hairpin turn in front of a neighbor’s house, where he proceeds to honk his bike horn.

“The guy who lives there is from Ohio,” Dugan laughs as he honks his horn, “I know him real well. I wake him up with my horn.”

Returning home, Dugan charges up the driveway and barely slips by the rear bumper of the family's SUV, leaving only inches to spare.

“I have to go fast or I won’t make it up the hill,” Dugan advises. 

On Dugan’s 96th birthday in March, his daughter made a sign for his bike.

“She put 'Floyd’s 96th birthday' on the basket of that bicycle,” Dugan said. They left the bike in front of the house while they rested on the pool chairs inside the garage door. 

“We were sitting here drinking water and coffee and people were driving by honking,” Dugan said. "All at once a van stopped across the street. The guy got out and had something in his hand, I couldn’t tell what it was. Finally, he yelled, ‘Happy birthday, Floyd,’ and threw these beads across the street.” 

While Dugan enjoys living the Life of Riley on Marco Island, he’ll soon be heading back to Illinois.

"Jackie and Kim like me coming down here and staying with them,” Dugan said, “but I’ve got to get back to Illinois. I have to go to the Veterans Clinic. They check me once a year. I tell Doctor Domondo, ‘I have a big heart and no brains.'  I make him mad every time I go to see him. Cause whenever he gets done checking me all over, I’ll take my hearing aids out and I’ll jump up and open the door for him and say, ‘Age before beauty.’  That makes him mad. He’ll say, ‘Ah, shut up.’  He’s quite a guy.”

Dugan looks forward to what life holds.

"I told the doctors I’ve got 15-20 years yet,” Dugan said. "I enjoy my family. That’s the main thing."

Dugan has over a dozen grandchildren and over a dozen great grandchildren. He can rattle off all of their names, birthdays, and tell a story about what each of them are doing. He also sends each of them $100 for their birthday.

“He said he wants to live to be 100,” Jackie said of her dad. “I think he’ll pass that."