Riding back roads here in Pennsyltucky you often have the pleasure of passing by homesteads that make the shacks in the movie Deliverance look like the Ritz. Invariably, there will be some under the porch dwelling mutt that takes exception to your passing by the palace that comes a hellin' out to the road to get a piece of your leg. Judging by the usual washboard appearance of their ribs I don't blame them much . . . they are probably just hungry. Anyhoo, dogs are GREAT open field tacklers. They usually come balls out on the perfect angled intercept course: which is their undoing (if you remember your MSF training). Just drop a gear or two, whack the throttle open and, because Rover is WOT, too, he can't make the course correction quick enough to compensate for your sudden burst of speed. Easy peazy.
Not so with RED ROVER. This reddish Doberman ran right out into the middle of the road, stopped there all bristled up and waited for his meals on wheels to come to him. A lot of poop sloshes around in your skull when a literal ass chewing awaits your arrival. Slow, spin the ass end of the bike around and go? Nope too close . . . the thought of Big Red climbing up my back from the rear made my testicles want to hide somewhere. Gas it and go to one side or the other? Maybe on my liter bike, but with 15 thumping cubic inches to work with and the close proximity, Rover was going to get a drum stick.
Well I am here sharing this so you know I survived.
I don't know whether it was conscious thought, fear or just wanting to give as good as I was going to get, but I started slowing and, as I did, Red Rover started coming. Can dogs smile? I swear he was smiling . . . I released the front brake and as the forks were extending I clutched up a second gear wheelie and screamed, "Skid plate!" in my helmet (Don't laugh; at least it wasn't "Tater Tots!") I figured the Flat Land Racing plate would give him a good whack and I would cross over him like a log across the trail.
Not sure what he did at the last second . . . I think my eyes were shut
I never felt a thump, so I guess he went from badazz to b1tch cause he got out of my way. When I looked to the rear he was not on the road anymore, so I assume he high tailed it back to junkyard.
Quick personal assessment revealed no bite marks and nothing out of place (as long as you don't count the load in my shorts).
That stretch of road is no longer on my riding menu.
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Hahahah that is funny as hell. Good write-up, I ENJOYED THAT.
