I know that I have an issue. I go on about this subject all the time, on this blog and my super-secret blog. But I can't emphasize enough: STAY OUT OF THE ROAD UNLESS YOU ARE IN A PROPER AUTOMOTIVE VEHICLE.
Now my fingers are hoarse from shouting. But I've been provoked yet again. This morning, I topped a blacktop hill to find a beautiful Golden Retriever running right smack dab up the center of my lane. Of course I slammed the anti-lock brakes to halt T-Hoe in his tracks. The dog was fine. He veered to my left, tongue lolling, doggy smile on his face, to rejoin his people.
That's right. It's not the dog's fault that he almost became a shiny golden pancake. He was loping along beside his people. Two pre-teens on bicycles, a woman in a golf cart, and a man on a lawnmower bringing up the rear. There was another dog behind Goldie, but I did not even notice the color, what with worrying about crushing every bone in Goldie's soon-to-be carcass.
Surely these fools must be tourists. Visitors to the country, who think anything less than a six-lane divided highway is put there for recreational purposes. That it's a winding pig trail for all to frolic, inherently safe, because we Zekes and Cletuses here in Podunk drive Flintstone log-mobiles with our bare feet, stopping at all unicorn crossings and fluffy-kitten play zones.
Several cars were backed up behind Lawnmower Jockey. Really. How fast do you think a seven-year-old on a bike can go? He was the leader of this Make Mrs. Hillbilly Mom Become Unhinged parade.
People piss me off.