Dealing With Dogs

I admit it, I've simply had it with dogs and I'm refusing to deal with them anymore. If a dog chases me on rural roads beyond their property and on to the roads in an attack mode, and do not respond to a "GO HOME" shouted at them, I'm calling the Sheriff's Department of that county to report them. I simply don't have time or the will to talk to every individual dog owner anymore.

Since CDV was bitten a couple weeks ago, he's been pretty gun shy on the roads when it comes to dogs. Today got my guard up a little as well. CDV, Kathy R., and myself were headed up towards Spink. Kathy had no more talked about dogs that had come at her last June and here they came. I was hoping they would remain on their property, but it wasn't to be. They worked damn well as a team too. While I was yelling at the one on my right to go home, I suddenly felt hot breath as I had one nipping at my left heel. I accelerated to get away but CDV had already dismounted and was using his bike as a shield between himself and the dog. That worked for one, but like I said, they were working VERY well in pairs and Craig had his head on a swivel watching both dogs. He slowly walked down the road watching the dogs, with his dog spray in one hand.

The dogs didn't give up for the better part of a half mile. I didn't settle down all day about the incident. When we got around to Elk Point I called the Sheriff's Office. There were supposedly going to contact me later. They didn't. I called back later in the evening and I received a "Um, I'm not sure, but we had a deputy in the area and I *think* he talked to them." Um...not good enough. I turned it up a notch by emailing. We will see if I get a response. The email? Allow me to make it public here for conversation:

Dear Union County Sheriff's Department:

Today at about 1:45 pm, between 317th and 316th street on the Spink Oil (473rd Ave.) we had a major dog incident. As bicyclists, we have encounters with dogs and are skilled in how to handle them. Most of them, with a simple "GO HOME" will turn tail and go home. Most never leave their yards and are just protecting their property line. These two dogs did not respond to many very loud "GO HOME" yells and were very aggressively bearing their teeth and working as a team to approach me on each side of the bike, one nipping at my left heel.

My friend, Craig DeVelder, dismounted his bike as he was recently bit by a dog in Meckling, SD and is understandably a little "dog shy". He was keeping his bike between himself and the dogs as we know as the best method from articles we have read and from other riders. These dogs did NOT tire of the chase as he continued to walk his bike away from them. The dogs were no less than a 1/4 mile away from their farm and closer to a 1/2 mile before they gave up finally.

Kathy Roberts from McCook Lake, who was also with us today, has had a run in last June with these same dogs and stated that the owner was outside and managed to get one of the two back but one still was on the road before it finally turned around.

Based on SD Codified Law 40-34-14, I see no reason for these dogs to not be on record as vicious dogs. To save you having to look it up it is copied below:

40-34-14. Vicious dog defined. For the purposes of §§ 40-34-13 to 40-34-15, inclusive, a vicious dog is:

(1) Any dog which, when unprovoked, in a vicious or terrorizing manner approaches in apparent attitude of attack, or bites, inflicts injury, assaults, or otherwise attacks a human being upon the streets, sidewalks, or any public grounds or places; or

(2) Any dog which, on private property, when unprovoked, in a vicious or terrifying manner approaches in apparent attitude of attack, or bites, or inflicts injury, or otherwise attacks a mailman, meter reader, serviceman, journeyman, delivery man, or other employed person who is on private property by reason of permission of the owner or occupant of such property or who is on private property by reason of a course of dealing with the owner of such private property.

Source: SL 1988, ch 330, § 2.

There is no doubt in my mind that these dogs are both well within the realms of being labeled vicious and I would appreciate them being labeled as such. I refuse to give up one of our training routes because of dogs. Once these dogs came on the road and were nipping at my heels, the line was clearly crossed. Attached are some pictures that Kathy Roberts took during our ride today.

Please feel free to contact me anytime for further information or to inform me of the action that was taken in this complaint. I have also cc'd Craig and Kathy so you have their emails if you have further questions as well.



Sincerely,


Kevin Brady
Vice President, South Dakota Bicycle Coalition
*street*
*town - zip*
*phone*

Momentary Lapse of Rational Thinking

Laura and I made another trip to Brunswick, NE today. I helped Laura's Grandpa with some minor drawer details to our "Captain's Bed" that we are building and then we planed some boards that will eventually be the headboard for the bed. There will be a much longer post on this when it is done and delivered, but for now, the teaser is that the drawer fronts and the headboard are all "native" wood. The boards have been ripped down and planed from a couple of ash trees that were cut down in Brunswick. It's been amazing to me watching a "tree" become a "board". Yeah, I know...it's the simple things that entertain simple people.

On to my lapse in thinking/ability to do math. Laura was late getting back into Brunswick and after we loaded up a cedar chest and said our goodbyes, it was already getting late. I had the bike with and I really wanted to get a ride in. So, I started doing fuzzy math/logic in my head: "If you drop me off in Laurel, I'll have a bit of a tail wind and cross wind and should be able to make it home before sunset". Sounded reasonable, after all, it was only 6:15 or so when I said it. Problem was, we had 45 minutes of driving before Laurel.

By the time I got out and dressed at the Gas Station in Laurel, got the bike tires pumped up, chain lubed, and got rolling it was 7:22 (okay 7:21:59 according to my Garmin). Oh yeah, from that station to my house is 35.72 miles. I took off at a good pace, and quickly started redoing math and realizing that it was time to go into race mode. Whatever you got, it's time to use it up.

The stretch from Laurel to Hwy 12 has decent rolls in it, but with a tail wind of around 10mph, I made pretty decent work of those. Hwy 12, turning back slightly SE, I went back into the wind a bit and really had to push because NOW it was getting dark fast. Luck was on my side, because on this road with NO shoulder (white line IS the shoulder) I was passed only by one car in that stretch. A few oncoming, but overall pretty quiet.

As soon as I turned south towards Vermillion, I had to take my sunglasses off, even with the orange lenses in them. It was getting THAT dark. I got passed shortly before the Missouri River bridge and I went as fast as I could so I would not get passed on the bridge. When I turned off on Dakota Street heading towards the airport, my cell phone rings: "Where are you at?". Luckily I was in coming-in-for-landing mode because the Mrs. was in worry-mode. She's usually pretty calm about my riding but this time she was justifiable in her fears.

Oh well, I made it. I'm alive. Now I have one more story to tell over beers with the biking buddies.

Dear cycling class...tomorrow may be a pretty easy day for you all. I'm sensing parts of my body that may not be happy with me.

Benefit Ride and Adult Conversation

After church on Sunday the Biking Brady's aired up all the bike tires and headed on down to the 1st Annual (I prefer inaugural -- after all if it's the first one, is it REALLY annual?!?!?) Megan's Run/Ride. It was a scholarship ride for Vermillion and Harrisburg high school to help celebrate the life of Megan (Tolsma) O'Connor who lost her battle with cancer this year.

It was a GREAT turnout for a first year event. It all shows how much smaller towns in South Dakota are so great at participating in events that benefit others. They had door prizes and the odds were stacked in our favor with five registrants. We had three family members drawn. Marissa's name was drawn for a free family pool pass next year (MOST Excellent!), I got a reversible USD Coyote beanie with 2 Taco John's Combo meals and Carson's name was drawn and he was busy playing so we sent Austin up. It was pretty picked over by that point so Austin grabbed a 2009 pocket calendar along with a "sexy" Vermillion Light and Power t-shirt. While the Brady Five made out good, the Ride Vermillion group o' four was shut out much to our chagrin. I'm willing to cough up my 2XL sexy t-shirt if you need it CDV.

CDV and I discussed taking his new bike out for a spin, but he decided that the 20+ mph winds were probably more brutal in the country than in town so we nixed that idea. A plan was hatched amongst the Missusses to get together for some adult conversation and let the kids play. This worked out well for the two older boys as they disappeared to the Wii never to be seen again. The girls and Carson popped in and out, but much fun was had. It's a good thing the video camera wasn't going by the time four slightly lubed adults made it downstairs to play "Disney Charades" or to play "American Idol" on the Wii. YouTube would be abuzz today...

There was also preparatory talk about the Gut Check 2009 and the fact we only need one vehicle. My goal is to get CDV to the finish line this year so I have no plans on leaving him. What if he's strong and leaves me? Oh well, I'll just rest, go ahead in the van, and pull for him when I feel up to it. Oh yeah CDV, this doesn't mean that you don't have to pull AT ALL.

The beauty part is that I didn't crack an eye lid until about 9:00 this morning due to a rather late hitting of the proverbial hay last night. I love my holidays....

It's Just a Flesh Wound

The story behind the previous story you read HERE. Doctor appointment at 9:15. Update to follow.

I was the best damn combat cyclist there was. There I was preparing to bravely go across enemy lines (get on Catalina Ave right outside my house)
I was only a short distance inside of enemy lines (about two houses away) when I started to question if some of my weapons of mass destruction --real ones, not like the ones Iraq supposedly had-- might be slowing me down (why did I put my bike lock in my shorts pocket? I'm not stopping anywhere that I'll need to lock up my bike?!?!) I realized that I must remove this potential threat before I accidentally got killed or killed other friendlies(I don't need the lock...I think I'll stop and remove it from my pocket and take it home).

As I started to reach into my pocket to remove some of my WMD stash (take the lock out) I hear the voices of the enemy swiftly infiltrating from the West (Carson was walking down the sidewalk and screamed "HI DADDY!"). I flinched and was in the process of dropping a tactical nuke (my lock) to the ground when I started taking sniper fire (I had to switch hands on the handlebars/brakes so I could catch the lock falling out of my pocket and still try to stop in one swift motion).

Bullets were flying everywhere (I dropped the lock anyway) and then I took a mortar shell to the back wheel of my bike (I squeezed the front brake a little too tight and the back wheel popped off the ground and swung to the side) and I was thrown about fifty yards (damn bike nearly fell on top of me). By the grace of God I was only hit by sniper fire on my steel pot (I have a nice dent in my helmet from thumping my melon on the road) but I survived with nary a scratch thanks to the people who invented Kevlar for my lid (the people at Bell who constructed such a fine helmet).

The enemy was celebrating their conquest of the fallen bicyclist (Carson, my neighbors, and a couple girls walking by) with even a slight laugh from one the enemy combatants (I think it was one of neighbor girls). The crack medical staff risked their own lives to pull me out of harms way (Laura came running out to help me up as I laid sprawled out on the pavement). I could see by the look on her face that I might not make it although she tried to comfort me (she really did look worried).

It was then I noticed at least three open compound fractures with blood gushing everywhere (a couple real minor scrapes but an arm that hurt terribly). It wasn't until I woke up from surgery the next morning (woke up in bed) that I realized that something was definitely not right (did I really break my arm?). Against Doctor's (Laura's) orders, I left straightaway to go right back into to my war duties as a combat cyclist (I rode my bike to work). There were many times throughout the day that I felt like I might succumb to my injuries (again, see the list on THIS post), but I soldiered on, making sure to leave it all on the battlefield.

When this war is over (tomorrow), I am sure to have my arm amputated and a prosthesis attached (x-ray'd) at Walter Reed Hospital (Sanford Vermillion Medical Clinic). I'm hoping for a full recovery so I can return once again to be a combat cyclist (healthy bike rider).

The moral of this little story is twofold:

1. Always wear your steel pot (helmet), unless I don't like you, then it's entirely up to you.

2. If your going to have a crash story, make it memorable (with minor artistic liberties to add spice)

A Pavlovian Experiment

In the spirit of Ivan Pavlov I will soon be embarking on an important scientific journey: To see if I can make Cactus-Eyed Joe go postal on an upcoming ride by simply "dinging" the simple bell you see below. It was purchased online last night and is on its way to my house as we speak.



The story behind the bell:

It must be back in 2001 that this took place, but it makes me laugh and Joe cuss at the same time. Therefore, it's relevance is still there.

Siouxland Cyclists club from Sioux City used to host a ride that started at the Buffalo Run Winery here in Vermillion before our club was really up and running well, and before any of us were as strong a cyclist as we are now. We helped them plan a fifty mile route that looped to Burbank and then over the new Vermillion/Newcastle bridge to Newcastle. We really encouraged a bunch of our club to join in and that we would look after them. One happened to be my neighbor. This is where the story begins.

The reason we did a loop around Burbank and then to Newcastle is that it would offer a shorter ride (16ish miles) for those who were not ready for fifty. My neighbor was one of those not ready. Although she would race walk marathons, biking wasn't necessarily her forte. When we left Vermillion, the pace was moderate to strong, so some of our cyclists fell off the back. A few miles from Burbank Joe noticed that my neighbor was nowhere to be seen. He circled back to check up on her. Keeping the story short, he almost went all the way back to Vermillion as she decided to just turn around and go back to the coffee shop!

Needless to say, the pace was pretty strong up front and it was headed most of the time by two guys on a tandem (the original Man Tandem). They had a bell like the one in the picture above. Every time they decided to pick up the pace, they would ding the bell a couple times: "ding ding, ding ding" followed by an increase in speed of 2-4 mph at least. I held on to the pack and made it to Newcastle where we took an extended break there, somewhere in the area of a half hour.

Joe came pulling in, telling of his plight of looking for my neighbor and then busting butt trying to catch up to us. Unfortunately his rest in Newcastle was going to be short lived as everybody started to mount up for the last 15 miles back to Vermillion. Joe decided to stay with us so he mounted up too.

When you leave Newcastle for Vermillion, you start climbing right away. About 3/4 up the hill the tandem started the Pavlovian experiment for Joe: "ding ding, ding ding"...ZOOM. Joe fell off the back end almost immediately as he was tired from riding hard solo to Newcastle. Joe rode hard enough to catch up to the back of the pack. Of course, he caught up just in time to hear "ding ding, ding ding" and away we went again, leaving Joe to solo the rest of the way back to Vermillion. Joe cussed that tandem for a long time to come.

The ongoing joke from then on was always a spoken "ding ding, ding ding" when we were going to pick up the pace on a ride. This was always following by grumbling, and an occasional cuss word, and a hearty "I hate you guys" from Joe.

In the spirit of keeping the experiment alive, how could I NOT put a bell on the tandem? I may have to be careful of the timing of my use of the bell around Joe as he could become slightly volatile if the bell is used improperly or in a taunting mode. However, if you see Joe on the road and have a bell, by all means "ding away" and smile and say hello. After all, it's for science...

In the Nick of Time

I just posted about my new Tandem Bike Rack being installed a couple days ago. The following could either be considered a jinx or a great timing.

Last night Marissa had a softball game in Elk Point. We had a friend's Mom take her down to the game and we rode the tandem. The wind was blowing, not hard, but hard enough where it was all we could do to hold 15-16 mph for most of the trip.

We turned down the street that the ball field complex is at and of course the one she played at was on the OTHER side of the complex. We did a little gravel and off road riding to get to our destination.

After the game and getting rained on just a little, we hopped back on the tandem and was cruising out of Elk Point at 18-20 mph when I asked Laura "What's that noise"? At first I passed it off as a "tandem noise I yet to understand" or "just the noise of the road". Then I realized what it really was...the back tire was going flat.



This was not a well planned trip by Mr. and Mrs. Brady:
1. No spare tube
2. No Scabs
3. No pump
4. The usual person to pick me up in such a situation was riding with me.

We ended up calling Laura's Mom to go get the van and come rescue us. This of course happens ONE DAY after installing the tandem mount so we had some luck on that side. The downside was that it started to rain on us. By the time I was loading up the tandem, it was raining pretty darn good too!

We only ended up getting about 19 miles of the 30 mile trip in, and Laura didn't get to enjoy the wind-at-our-back portion of the trip, but she never got upset about the happenings. She already has the roll with the punches bicycling attitude. Thus proving once again that she's a good trooper and that she is going to be a great cyclist in time.

No Reason to Panic

CDV (Ride Vermillion) and I went out on our initial tandem ride in preparation for Gut Check '08. It started out great! I clipped into the new Crank Brother Quattro SL's with no problems at all and I'm actually quite impressed with them. CDV and I rolled out a rather easy 20-22 mph pace. That lasted about eight miles or so and then something went drastically wrong.

There is a stretch on the bluff road that was HEAVILY seal coated last year and it is "slow" pavement. That's what we chalked up to the fact we were climbing a small rise at a mere 12-13 mph. As the last 20 miles unfolded for this ride, it was evident that something else was going on. We got off the "slow" stretch and still was struggling to hold 17 mph tops.

We stopped about 23 miles in and checked the tires and, even though I didn't take time to check them before we left, they seemed fine. We got back on and it seemed to roll better, but still not great. Probably 18 mph top end and we were getting tired. Then we started to hear something..it was a whining noise. It was the disc brakes. It's my first bike with disc brakes and I know NOTHING about them.

We LABORED back into town and we were totally fragged. When we got back to my place I picked up the bike and spun attempted to spin the front wheel. It made ABOUT one revolution before coming to a complete stop. Craig made his way to his truck and I crawled into the house. Too tired to even look at the problem. Heck, it took me another 2.5 hours to recover enough to BLOG about it.

No reason to loose faith in the tandem team that is poised to take the Gut Check by storm (we are the only tandem team so far!). Think of the initial ride like one of my indoor cycling classes: We had an easy flat for a warm up and then we turned up the tension to simulate tough hills....for the next 1.5 hours. So for those who want to whine about my classes, remember...I could take you out for one of my now famous tandem rides.

Dog Uses Up a Life

If dogs have nine lives like cats, one little ferocious white puffball used up one yesterday. While Craig and I was riding out on east Main St., a little white puffball came at us with a "ferocious" yip. Meanwhile a car was passing us. Snow on the side of the road, little white dog on the road, car passing cyclists....you get the picture. We actually saw the dog turn his head away at the last second in a "I'M ABOUT TO DIE!" moment, but the car just missed...and I mean by inches. As a matter of fact Craig and I were absolutely amazed that it didn't become a spot on the road. It may be awhile before this little ankle biter finds his way to the road to chase a cyclist again.

Gut Check 2007 Flashback - Crack In a Can

In my Gut Check 2007 recap, I had made mention about not being in very good shape on Sunday morning.

In a recent discussion with Craig D. about this during the Lane Hogs serving of The Welcome Table he told a story that is wrought with painful, albeit triumphant memories.

Craig's side of the story is that when he pulled into Redfield to help support me and Mr. Bite to the finish, we already looked like hell before we even got on the bike. On the bike we went nonetheless. Just two short hours removed from a 232.5 mile day, we were back in the saddle. Just the thought of that should tell you how we felt. A "simple" 115 miles or so to go to the Minnesota border.

Craig said that following us out of the shoot we both looked terrible: bad cadence, couldn't hold a line, defeated look. It didn't help that I had a HUGE headache and every crack in the road that I hit felt like I fell into a crevasse that would have killed a mere mortal. Mr. Bite and I decided to stop every 15 miles or so due to the rainy conditions and the fact we were both close to being physically baked.

The first stop I remember well as we were wet, cold, and it seemed like the end. My wife , bless her heart, went to the store and got my favorite recovery drink for me: a quart of chocolate milk, which I gladly downed with a sandwich. I was hoping that and the 600mg ibuprofen horse pill that I get from the VA would do the trick in eliminating my headache. 15 miles later, at stop number two, it wasn't to be. I still had the headache, and it still was a son-of-a.....

Alas! Craig, my wingman, my brother-in-arms, pulled out an Amp Tall Boy and said "Drink this" without giving me a choice. I drank as instructed. He did the same with food. "Take; eat" (sounding a bit like a Sunday Communion at church!). I ate as instructed. After a short rest, back on the bike we went. It wasn't but 2-3 miles down the road when I looked at Mr. Bite and said, "Dude, my headache is GONE!"

It was a new lease on the day! I give as much credit to the all powerful Amp, affectionately known now as "Crack in a Can", as I do to anything else in finishing this ride.

While the ONE Amp got me going in my quest to finish, each of the following THREE Amp Tall Boys played an important part in my completion of the final mileage. That's right folks: FOUR Amp Tall Boys in the last 100 miles or so. Guess what? Unless it becomes a "banned substance", it will be ON the packing list as required drinking this year on the Gut Check.

How Not to Look Cool as a Hunter

The setup: Last Saturday, as we rode our bikes all over the country, we took our lives into our hands as it was the beginning of South Dakota's pheasant season. The rest of the post is self explanatory with that piece of information.

Picture the following:



By itself a minivan is a fine vehicle. Even I own one. Now picture this inside the minivan:

If anybody pictured this and didn't laugh, there is something wrong with you. Of course, seeing it first hand about made me have an accident I was laughing so hard, even as a non-hunter. If I was this guys friend, he would never live it down. That's the kind of nice guy I am.

LOST! - The Men, not the TV Show

It was a GREAT weekend of mountain biking, no matter how you look at it. Even after all was said and done, "the lost" Craig and I agreed that it was better that taking the highway back. I mean really, who mountain bikes on the highway when there are perfectly good gravel/mud roads to go on?

Let's back up and start from the beginning shall we? Craig D., Craig T., Joe P., and I all met and drove over to Maskell, NE where we met up with Kary G. from the Yankton club. A few of us had ridden the back roads to some extent around there, but not towards the river and we had been told that was a great ride.

Off we went south out of Maskell and a little over a mile later was our first "minimum maintenance road" of the day. It's a clay/dirt mixture that gets some pretty gaping cracks in it when it rains, like it has lately. For the most part everybody traversed the road well and had a good time. We hooked back up to the gravel that we normally would go back to Obert on, but went south towards the river instead of back to Obert. As we were biking along and following the river, I had noticed about how far we had gone and mentioned that I bet we could end up in Wynot, NE. Another minimum maintenance road later that basically popped out right on somebody's farm and I could see Wynot actually slightly southeast of us. We rode on into town and enjoyed a barley pop and a bag of chips before mounting up on the way home.

Kary G., Craig D., and Joe P. WUSSED OUT and took Hwy 12 back to Maskell to their vehicles while Craig T. and I decided to try to backtrack the way we had just come. Really, who takes paved roads on a mountain bike where there are perfectly good gravel/dirt roads to be traversed? One catch, it was starting to rain. Not hard and it was actually not bad to ride in at all. Even the first dirt/clay road wasn't too bad to maneuver through although it is a pretty good climb and descent. We made our way back along the river and as we were turning back towards Maskell there was more and more lightening and the rain started coming down heavier.

I was looking for the "Y" in the road that we needed to turn on and I'm not sure if it was the rain or just the fact I thought it looked familiar, but we turned about 2 miles short of where we should have. The road started out fine, but then it started looking more and more like a long field approach. I told Craig that I thought we made a wrong turn, but he was actually quite reassuring that we were going right. That lasted about another mile when the semi-gravel turned into pure dirt, which now had turned to pure mud. It was only about 10 pedal strokes before the breaks were caked with mud and the wheels were locking up. We had to ride on the edge of the grass to keep the wheels clean. In about a 1/2 mile we went south between two corn fields hoping to find a road that led back over the bluff. No such luck. We started going back east again and I noticed that I was having trouble steering. I thought it was due to the mud. No such luck. TWO flat tires. It was about this same time that I noticed something that made me hopeful: I could see the bridge going back to South Dakota. It was probably 1.5-2 miles away. PROBLEM: There was a couple more fields between us and that bridge and no more roads, just muddy fields. It wasn't going to happen. We were going to have to back track.

Strangely enough, as we were back tracking out of our situation, we ran into a pickup. A young guy and two girls were waiting for the guys buddy who was "checking a tree stand". They didn't offer to help but did tell us the best way out. I didn't want to back track as far as they were explaining so Craig and I hugged the fence line of a cornfield for probably a half mile and we got back on the initial gravel road that had taken us astray. As we were making our way out the pickup went by and offered us a ride into town, which was lucky for us as it was already about 6:00 and we were a couple hours from being finished. It was getting cold, we were tired, and getting hungry.

As we pulled into Maskell, I noticed that Craig D. was behind us in a pickup. It seems that he was sent on behalf of our wives to try to hunt us down as Craig T's wife was very worried. So much so that she had called the Vermillion police who in turned called the Dixon Co. (NE) Sheriff to look for us. This isn't the first time Craig T has been lost you see. The first time included a search and rescue mission team in the Black Hills. SO...I suppose it's acceptable for Craig's wife to be a little worried. Mine, of course, just laughed at me.

We drove back into town, grabbed my camera and headed to the car wash to clean off the bikes. Even after a good power washing, I had to clean out the inside of the tires thoroughly before replacing tubes. It was an absolute mess.

It may have been an absolutely crappy situation, but Craig and I made the best of it. After all, what is biking without biking stories to tell? Do those who rode the highway home have these stories? I THINK NOT!

Here are a couple of pictures before the washing of the bikes with the high pressure hose.





This is the best reproduction of the trip I can make from memory. Of ALL the trips to forget my Garmin on, I really wish I had it for this one! Somewhere straight south of Obert between the river to the east is where we were. I really can't reproduce it on here, but I bet I can take you there on bike. Just tell me when you want to go. I'll make sure it's raining and cold.

CAR! and FORE! are NOT the Same Word

It's late in the season and many different athletes are trying to take advantage of the nice October weather as quickly after work as possible as there is limited daylight to work with. Last night two of these groups had a scary run in.

Craig D., Cathy L., Kwen S., and I took off towards Elk Point on the bottom road and was clipping along into the wind when I heard a shout that sounded like "CAR" to me at first. When I went to check my mirror, I tilted my head a little and out of the corner of my eye I seen something flying at us. It seems that it was NOT "CAR" that I heard, but "FORE!". A golf ball hit on the pavement not five feet in front of us and you could actually hear the spin of the ball as it whirred over our heads.

I blame "Fatty" from the fatcyclist blog for this bit of near death fate. He has been gathering various "close call" stories from cyclists, mainly about animals. Is it a coincidence that this happened one day after his post about Surreal Moments? I think not!