COWS. It's funny. How many times have you gone past a whole herd a grazing cows while you're in your vehicle? You can't even get them to look at you. You "moo" at the top of your lungs out the side of the window, and they just keep on muching, bleary eyed. But I'll tell you what, when I ride by on my bicycle, those cows look at me like I'm a horseman of the apocalypse. I tell them in my squeaky mother voice "Hey, guys, don't worry about it...no, it's cool...relax, no guys, it's fine", and they take off at full gallop, although a lot of times in the same direction I'm going. They're not exactly the smartest of herd animals.
ROADKILL. It was a neck and neck race between the racoon and armadillo for the "Most Likely to Become Pulverized by Vulcanized Rubber" cup, until the snake slithered his way in between. It looked like a photo finish as the three reached the white line separating the right-of-way and the highway, but glorious victory was quickly squashed as a car edged over the painted divide and made quick abstractions of the unfortunate trio. "Don't tread on me" indeed.
YIPPY DOGS. People warned me about the dogs before I even started the trip, but I didn't believe them. They talked and talked about big, mean werewolf-dogs with sharp fangs that would gnaw my legs off while I rode, but they didn't say anything about what I really need to watch out for: little worthless yippy dogs. Yippy dogs, having been pampered all their lives by owners who cart them around in Prada purses, have no respect for cyclists, much less their owners. They leap from their owners' arms at the first sight of man and bike, scurrying as fast as their tiny legs allow and yipping like they're actually menacing. The things is, though, for fifteen seconds they're reeeeeally fast. They get too close for comfort sometimes, and I, the peace-loving veggie-eater, often hope that some vehicle (preferably a small one) puts them out of their misery and into the category above.
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