By October 25, 2008

Sweet canine justice

Yesterday I rode Raider, my BMW R1150R down to Savannah, Georgia to hang out with some friends of mine. I took I-95 for most of the way. Eventually I will take a less-traveled route and enjoy myself, but I like making this trip all in one day.

I have been pleasantly surprised at how courteous cars are on the highway. I think it’s because the majority of drivers this time of year are elderly snowbirds, driving south for the winter. They tend to stick to the right hand lane, and I pass them with ease. Every once in awhile, though, you get an asshole behind the wheel.

Traffic was a little tight, and there was a semi truck in the left hand lane. My typical cruise speed was reduced from 85 down to 70 (the limit). I had been traveling with a group of cars, including a green Nissan Pathfinder crammed full of a husband and wife and their kids.

So, shit happens and sometimes you get caught behind a slow vehicle in the left hand lane. No big deal. The guy in the Nissan, however, was in a bigger hurry than the rest of us who had previously been cruising at 15 over the posted limit. He swung out quickly into the right hand lane and proceeded to fight his way forward.

The car in front of me rebuffed his effort the first time he tried to cut ahead. The Pathfinder angrily slashed back behind me and rode a little closer to me than I like. A few miles later, he swung out again. I knew he wasn’t going to make it, but based on his behavior I expected him to do something rash. Sure enough, he cut right in front of me and then put on his brakes to avoid rear-ending the car ahead.

So, shit happens and sometimes you get caught behind a jackass who cuts you off. No big deal. Until I noticed one of his kids was freaking the fuck out in the back of the Pathfinder. His head was whipping back and forth, and one of the other kids was covering its ears. I got a little closer and realized it was a small dog going absolutely apeshit because of my motorcycle.

I waited until the dog settled down, then roared close. The dog started barking and thrashing about. The mother turned around and swatted at it. The dog slipped the punch and continued its tirade. The dog would calm down, I’d zoom close and rev my motor, and it would freak out again. This kept up for about twenty miles. I have to admit it made my ride.

I stopped off for a bite to eat and some coffee. Little did I know this would be the last time I was dry for almost three hundred miles.

Posted in: motorcycling

1 Comment on "Sweet canine justice"

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  1. Spectre says:

    HAHA! That’s awesome, be safe out there.