MTBer VS. 2 Pitt Bulls and a Mutt

I had scarey experience yesterday. I finally got my Goose (Mongoose) fixed and after not riding for two or three weeks for any considerable distance, I was chomping at the bit to go! I decided to take a nice fairly-flat road ride to the Ouchita River. With all the rain over the past few days, it should have been a sight.

The ride was going well. I noticed a slight squirreliness in the rear wheel, but I was just cruising on pavement. I wobbled the bike while coasting and noticed that the axle bearings were a tiney bit sloppy. I figured I'd snug then up when I got the river. I kept on riding.

I was cruising through some farm country south of Malvern, and passed a cattle farm on my right. The strange thing was that there was a 4 wheeler in the feild about 20 feet from the fence--with the engine running, not a soul to be seen. I thought that was strange, but wrote it off as another part of life in Arkansas...you know, rather than fix the starter or get a new battery, jump it off with the pick-up truck at the barn and don't shut it off until you get back to the truck.

Just a minute after I look back down the road in the glaring afternoon sun I see the silhouette of 3 medium to large sized dogs. One was small, one was large, but the one that looked most agitated was medium sized. My first thought was 'uh, oh!' Then I relaxed a little to see how they might display aggression. DISPLAY THEY DID! They came from the left shoulder out of some tall over-growth at the end of a field and the beginning of a patch of woods about 150-200 yards in front of me. They looked as though they were just running...chasing a scent or something until they got into the road. Then they saw me, and then I became they focus of their blood-lust (my choice of that word will make perfect sense in a minute). They started that snorting/growling type of barking, and then started running full-throttle straight down the road at me. There was no where for me to go! The fields were fenced off on both sides of the road for at least a mile behind me. There was nothing for me to do but whip the Goose around and rip the handle bars off.

As I turn around and start to build speed I can hear thier claws scraping on the pavement as each paw is slammed down and snatched back up. I looked back and could see all three of them in full gate, rear legs coming up to the front and those fat heads bobbing up and down. I looked for someone at that 4 wheeler, hoping it was a crack-shot redneck with rifle, but the 4 wheeler was GONE! Well, I don't blame him, if I were on a 4 wheeler, and saw those dogs with nothing but a 3 lined barbed wire fence between us, I would have scurried off too! It would have been nice to have been on a 4 wheeler! I gained some hope when the sound of the air rushing around my head drowned out the sound of their claws. I reached my top speed of 22MPH...that's all I could ever do on flat paved road. I thought 'I'm done. These dogs are going to catch me and I'm going to make my wife a widow with 3 children under the age of 4.'

They were closing in on me. I could hear the sound of their breathing. It was a dry, snorting, huff-and-puff type of labored breathing. I looked back and the mutt had dropped off, the largest one was probably 100 feet back and the small pit bull was about 50 feet back. I started to feel a sense of "do-or-die" terror. That pesky handlebar was still attached, so I tried even harder to rip it off. It wasn't letting go! I looked at the speedo and it reported 25 MPH. I broke my own record! Woohoo! It's shame that a clear and present danger to my very life is what it took to do it!

I was starting to feel it now. My calves were getting slow and bulky feeling, my shoulders were getting tired, and my quads were screaming for mercy. I was gasping so hard I felt like I was being suffocated. My eyes were watering really bad from sweat being blown into them. I had snot running out of my nose, and saliva running down my neck. I needed water, but that would have been a BAD time to stop for a drink. I just kept on peddling. And peddling. When would that dog give up?

I started to fade. I was spent. I am a bulky 215lbs, I had a gallon of hydro in my backpack with at least 5 lbs. of tools, and my bike is probably 40 lbs by itself...I was surprised that I went that long over 20MPH. I took one last look back to see how close my predator was AND IT WAS A BIKE LENGTH FROM MY BACK WHEEL! The pain faded, the wind rushed even harder and those Kenda Klaws were roaring...one last blast of energy...one last try at ripping the handlebar off...and I look back, the dog gave up. It was so winded it couldn't even bark anymore. It kept making some kind of raspy hacking noise, but not a bark. Gasping for air, and too spooked to stop just yet, I slowed down quite a bit, but I kept going.

I looked at my speedo. I knew that right before I saw that 4 wheeler, I was right at 4 miles from home. I was now at 5.4 miles. Blood-lust. That dog chased me for over a mile. That dog wanted me dead. If that dog would have caught me, I would be dead. The first one would have taken me down, the biggest one would have caught up, the smallest one would have seen the commotion and join in. I would have been done for.

Just when I thought it was safe! Today, on my way home from work, on a road I've taken so many times before, I was chased by another dog...bigger than the other three put together! This was a good one, however, it was right at the top of a very steep decent, and I was able to get up to 30 MPH for a good ways. I heard that dog trip and fall in the road. After what I went through yesterday, that put a little smile on my face. Payback!