Big dog chased me on my bicycle

[hermit]

It was not a good thing.   Happened three hours ago and I'm still pissed off about it.

There's been three big dogs running loose up the street for the past month or so.   I've seen them on occasions.  They belong to someone up there.   I rode through there today, and this one dog saw me and came after me.    I was on the end of my one hour ride and tired,  but I pedaled like a bat out of hell,  I was shittin and gittin.    I'm 66 yo, but I was fast enough to make the dog give up.

I called Animal Control,  but as soon as I hung up,  I knew they weren't gonna do diddly shit.   Gal asked me if the " dog attacked me "  .    I told her I didn't know, I did not hang around to find out.    I will be shocked,  if the City does anything about those dogs running loose.   Typical City government crap.

I've been really angry since.   Like to get my pound of flesh.  

[oilsooner]

lol

dogs are always a main worry for me as I ride my harley through neighborhoods.

your story then reminded me of this one:

Neighborhood Hazard (Or: Why the Cops Won't Patrol Brice Street)


I never dreamed slowly cruising through a residential neighborhood could be so incredibly dangerous!

Studies have shown that motorcycling requires more decisions per second, and more sheer data processing than nearly any other common activity or sport. The reactions and accurate decision making abilities needed have been likened to the reactions of fighter pilots! The consequences of bad decisions or poor situational awareness are pretty much the same for both groups too.

Occasionally, as a rider I have caught myself starting to make bad or late decisions while riding. In flight training, my instructors called this being �behind the power curve�. It is a mark of experience that when this begins to happen, the rider recognizes the situation, and more importantly, does something about it. A short break, a meal, or even a gas stop can set things right again as it gives the brain a chance to catch up.

Good, accurate, and timely decisions are essential when riding a motorcycle�at least if you want to remain among the living. In short, the brain needs to keep up with the machine.

I had been banging around the roads of east Texas and as I headed back into Dallas, found myself in very heavy, high-speed traffic on the freeways. Normally, this is not a problem, I commute in these conditions daily, but suddenly I was nearly run down by a cage that decided it needed my lane more than I did. This is not normally a big deal either, as it happens around here often, but usually I can accurately predict which drivers are not paying attention and avoid them before we are even close. This one I missed seeing until it was nearly too late, and as I took evasive action I nearly broadsided another car that I was not even aware was there!

Two bad decisions and insufficient situational awareness�all within seconds. I was behind the power curve. Time to get off the freeway.

I hit the next exit, and as I was in an area I knew pretty well, headed through a few big residential neighborhoods as a new route home. As I turned onto the nearly empty streets I opened the visor on my full-face helmet to help get some air. I figured some slow riding through the quiet surface streets would give me time to relax, think, and regain that �edge� so frequently required when riding.

Little did I suspect�

As I passed an oncoming car, a brown furry missile shot out from under it and tumbled to a stop immediately in front of me. It was a squirrel, and must have been trying to run across the road when it encountered the car. I really was not going very fast, but there was no time to brake or avoid it�it was that close.

I hate to run over animals�and I really hate it on a motorcycle, but a squirrel should pose no danger to me. I barely had time to brace for the impact.

Animal lovers, never fear. Squirrels can take care of themselves!

Inches before impact, the squirrel flipped to his feet. He was standing on his hind legs and facing the oncoming Valkyrie with steadfast resolve in his little beady eyes. His mouth opened, and at the last possible second, he screamed and leapt! I am pretty sure the scream was squirrel for, �Banzai!� or maybe, �Die you gravy-sucking, heathen scum!� as the leap was spectacular and he flew over the windshield and impacted me squarely in the chest.

Instantly he set upon me. If I did not know better I would have sworn he brought twenty of his little buddies along for the attack. Snarling, hissing, and tearing at my clothes, he was a frenzy of activity. As I was dressed only in a light t-shirt, summer riding gloves, and jeans this was a bit of a cause for concern. This furry little tornado was doing some damage!

Picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and leather gloves puttering maybe 25mph down a quiet residential street�and in the fight of his life with a squirrel. And losing.

I grabbed for him with my left hand and managed to snag his tail. With all my strength I flung the evil rodent off the left of the bike, almost running into the right curb as I recoiled from the throw.

That should have done it. The matter should have ended right there. It really should have. The squirrel could have sailed into one of the pristinely kept yards and gone on about his business, and I could have headed home. No one would have been the wiser.

But this was no ordinary squirrel. This was not even an ordinary pissed-off squirrel.

This was an evil attack squirrel of death!

Somehow he caught my gloved finger with one of his little hands, and with the force of the throw swung around and with a resounding thump and an amazing impact he landed square on my back and resumed his rather anti-social and extremely distracting activities. He also managed to take my left glove with him!

The situation was not improved. Not improved at all. His attacks were continuing, and now I could not reach him.

I was startled to say the least. The combination of the force of the throw, only having one hand (the throttle hand) on the handlebars, and my jerking back unfortunately put a healthy twist through my right hand and into the throttle. A healthy twist on the throttle of a Valkyrie can only have one result. Torque. This is what the Valkyrie is made for, and she is very, very good at it.

The engine roared as the front wheel left the pavement. The squirrel screamed in anger. The Valkyrie screamed in ecstasy. I screamed in�well�I just plain screamed.

Now picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a slightly squirrel torn t-shirt, and only one leather glove roaring at maybe 70mph and rapidly accelerating down a quiet residential street�on one wheel and with a demonic squirrel on his back. The man and the squirrel are both screaming bloody murder.

With the sudden acceleration I was forced to put my other hand back on the handlebars and try to get control of the bike. This was leaving the mutant squirrel to his own devices, but I really did not want to crash into somebody�s tree, house, or parked car. Also, I had not yet figured out how to release the throttle�my brain was just simply overloaded. I did manage to mash the back brake, but it had little affect against the massive power of the big cruiser.

About this time the squirrel decided that I was not paying sufficient attention to this very serious battle (maybe he is a Scottish attack squirrel of death), and he came around my neck and got IN my full-face helmet with me. As the faceplate closed partway and he began hissing in my face I am quite sure my screaming changed tone and intensity. It seemed to have little affect on the squirrel however.

The rpm�s on The Dragon maxed out (I was not concerned about shifting at the moment) and her front end started to drop.

Now picture the large man on the huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a very ragged torn t-shirt, and wearing one leather glove, roaring at probably 80mph, still on one wheel, with a large puffy squirrel�s tail sticking out his mostly closed full-face helmet. By now the screams are probably getting a little hoarse.

Finally I got the upper hand�I managed to grab his tail again, pulled him out of my helmet, and slung him to the left as hard as I could. This time it worked�sort-of. Spectacularly sort-of, so to speak.

Picture the scene. You are a cop. You and your partner have pulled off on a quiet residential street and parked with your windows down to do some paperwork.

Suddenly a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a torn t-shirt flapping in the breeze, and wearing one leather glove, moving at probably 80mph on one wheel, and screaming bloody murder roars by and with all his strength throws a live squirrel grenade directly into your police car.

I heard screams. They weren't mine...

I managed to get the big motorcycle under directional control and dropped the front wheel to the ground. I then used maximum braking and skidded to a stop in a cloud of tire smoke at the stop sign at a busy cross street.

I would have returned to fess up (and to get my glove back). I really would have. Really. But for two things. First, the cops did not seem interested or the slightest bit concerned about me at the moment. One of them was on his back in the front yard of the house they had been parked in front of and was rapidly crabbing backwards away from the patrol car. The other was standing in the street and was training a riot shotgun on the police cruiser.

So the cops were not interested in me. They often insist to �let the professionals handle it� anyway. That was one thing. The other? Well, I swear I could see the squirrel, standing in the back window of the patrol car among shredded and flying pieces of foam and upholstery, and shaking his little fist at me. I think he was shooting me the finger�

That is one dangerous squirrel. And now he has a patrol car�

I took a deep breath, turned on my turn-signal, made an easy right turn, and sedately left the neighborhood.

As for my easy and slow drive home? Screw it. Faced with a choice of 80mph cars and inattentive drivers, or the evil, demonic, attack squirrel of death...I�ll take my chances with the freeway. Every time.

And I�ll buy myself a new pair of gloves.

CUAgain,
Daniel Meyer

[soonerbounce13]

Maybe this is what pissed on your grill cover

[stinger1066]

Slytherin carries a gun when he rides so he can shoot any dog that chases him.

But he lives out in a rural area.

[hermit]

Nov 10, 2018 6:00:03 GMT -6 stinger1066 said:

Slytherin carries a gun when he rides so he can shoot any dog that chases him.

But he lives out in a rural area.

That's easy for Slytherin,  he's riding his Schwinn Sting Ray     , he can get off that bike very easily.  

I would end up crashing from trying to ride and pull my gun out  .  

I have a can of wasp spray that I carry in my water bottle carrier,  but I always forget to take it along.   But not sure I can pedal like a mofo and pull out the can of spray at the same time.    It sucks being old.

[stinger1066]

Nov 10, 2018 8:42:28 GMT -6 hermit said:

Nov 10, 2018 6:00:03 GMT -6 stinger1066 said:

Slytherin carries a gun when he rides so he can shoot any dog that chases him.

But he lives out in a rural area.

That's easy for Slytherin,  he's riding his Schwinn Sting Ray     , he can get off that bike very easily.  

I would end up crashing from trying to ride and pull my gun out  .  

I have a can of wasp spray that I carry in my water bottle carrier,  but I always forget to take it along.   But not sure I can pedal like a mofo and pull out the can of spray at the same time.    It sucks being old.

I would go with bear spray.  

[hermit]

Nobody told me losing balance was part of getting old, but I guess I now know what they mean by a " tottering old fella " , or something like that.

When I was 13, I could ride for long distances with no hands. Can't do it now, at all. Everytime I reach for my water bottle , I damn near lose control and crash. I get off the bike to get a drink.

I see these young guys on the trails, they reach down and get their water bottle, take both hands off the bars to open the water and then take a big drink, and never miss a lick. wow

I ordered a small can of a dog repellent called " Halt " from Amazon, its small enough to fit in my pocket and will be easier to get to. But it won't shoot as far as wasp spray.

[howboutthemcowboys]

Carry a gun and shoot the fucking mutts.

"Team People" here.

[hermit]

I'd like to shoot them. I've called Animal Control twice more, and what I suspected is true, they not gonna do anything. Even after I found out who owns the dogs, wen to talk to the people and got no where. Animal Welfare tells me they can send an officer but all he can do is pick up the dogs and bring them to the shelter. I asked , since I can tell them where the dogs live, why the officer could not just knock on their door and have a talk with them about their dogs running loose. They said he could not do that.

They told me I could go to the animal shelter and sign a citation. The guy with the dogs would get a $179 fine for each dog running loose. My first thought, that this was too easy. I suspect that the guy would contest the ticket, it would go to municipal court, and I would have to proove that his dogs were loose. And I would lose. All I get out of that is wasted time.

For the time being, I don't ride on the street or walk my dog on the street.

[hermit]

People say "my dog would not hurt a flea " ..........yeah, well , tell that to this postal worker .... this is my worst fear when I'm on the bicycle

dog attack