Lucky Dog....

Last week, my wife and I went for a bike ride. It was the first time that just she and I have been able to get out this year, or last for that matter. Since having kids, it has become a less common occurrence than it used to be, but we are trying to make time to ride together more. We used to ride once or twice a week together years ago, even going so far as to sit on trainers side by side in the basement over the winter, so it is pretty cool that we are able to get out on the road again. I was looking forward to our ride I have to say.

We went out, cruising slow, rolling along and chatting, actually having fun on the bike. This is not something that one becomes accustomed too on most of the rides that I do. Even when I invite the O.D. on an easy ride, he is trying to go too fast, so I was certainly enjoying the change of pace. It was nice to actually enjoy riding, without concern for heart rate zones, power files or where we could find deer at.

We were rolling in toward Newburgh from Chandler, when a white Pitbull came charging toward us. Thinking quickly, I maneuvered between my wife and the dog, trying to get her out of the way.

I am of course a gentleman.

As the dog got closer, there was nothing but large white teeth showing. They appeared to be freshly sharpened based on the razor edges and gleaming caps. It appeared that he had what was left of a Sidi emblem on his back molar, so I knew that he had killed before, he had taken down a fellow cyclist. He saw me and knew that he would not have to eat again until Spring with this kill. He had declared war.


As he approached, now inches from my heel, I knew it was time to react. I decided to go all Hunter Smith on him (For you tards out there who don't follow football, that is the punter for the Indianapolis Colts. He can knock some serious hang time out of the pigskin, which is a football for all of you tards still reading).

I started planning my attack.

First I was going to drop kick his jaw, which I suspected would send him flying back into his yard. Then I planned on the cyclo-cross dismount, letting my bike roll into the ditch, so that I could quickly grab the dog while he was stunned. I was going to use a massive headlock/choke hold on him and occasionally dunk his head into the water in the ditch, while telling him that he was my bitch. After that, I was going to stand up and hurl him across the road. While he lie there wondering what the hell just happened, I was going to rip the dog's owners mailbox post out and beat the tar out of him. I couldn't decide if I was going to fold him up and stuff him in the mailbox or use the spare tube that I had and tie him to the stump of the mailbox post to show my fellow cycling brethren that we can fight back.

Then my wife squirted water on the dog and he ran.

He is lucky she got between us cause he was going down..........

From the island of E'ville,

The Enmark