This afternoon, it was 65 degrees and sunny. For the first time in ages, I was able to ride home in shorts and a short-sleeved bike jersey. I had just struggled up the big hill on Y, and was coasting down a slight incline toward route W at about 20 mph. Suddenly, at a house on the left side of the road, I saw a good-sized dog. A boxer. I’d never seen a dog at that house before. There was a little girl in the yard playing.
Pretty obvious what happens next, right?
Yeah, the dog takes off toward me. Little girl is yelling at the dog, who ignores her totally. I brake, the dog runs across in front of me, then turns around and runs right back in front of me so I could hit him at high speed. This is probably a 70-pound dog.
Sorry, I got into some sportscaster “historic present” there. Back to past tense.
Judging by the bruise and the smudge on my glove, my left hand hit first. That was followed by my left cheek (not one of the ones on my face), and then my head. I’ve said it before, but I’ll just reiterate that a helmet is a wonderful thing.
The little girl was yelling “Are you okay?” but I didn’t know the answer to that question, and I was too busy yelling something along the lines of “*&%^*&(^ dog! **&^ stupid (&*&^&*% (&*& dog ! @#$%! $#$&!” or something to that effect.*
My left cheek is going to be one big bruise tomorrow. On the plus side, my bike is okay.
*Note to little girl: Don’t use these words in front of grandma.