The challenge of riding a bicycle around loose dogs

Not a friendly face
Originally uploaded by Brite light photos.

LAKEWOOD, New York - Along West Summit Avenue, when riding my bicycle home from 'downtown' Lakewood, from right at a corner we called 'Dead Man's Curve' and until your cleared Craig Fransen's house (the beautiful stone place past Stoneman Avenue), there were at least four half-crazed dogs that just loved to run out and grab your pantleg as you rode by.

If you were lucky it was just your pantleg and not your leg itself.

The Beebe family (Alan?) had a black Labrador that was especially ornery and thought I deserved to be knocked off my Schwinn and onto my rear on the pavement. I would pedal like a maniac as I approached his house, lifting my feet up at the last instant and praying that I would coast beyond his range of running.

Usually, a string of profanity that cost a dozen Hail Mary's at confession would come pouring out of my mouth - as if the damned dog could understand what I was saying about its lineage.

It made me feel better, though.

One rainy afternoon, there was a beautiful - and very large - tan boxer waiting for me, sitting on the steps a few doors east of my Uncle Gordy Puls' house.

And I was just tired enough that I was not going to try to sprint past the dog, who came out routinely after me and was a serious biter.

Instead, as I came pumping by - and he came out running - I swung my foot right into his head with a resounding thump that send him yelping in one direction and me crashing in the other.

Lying on the pavement, I expected to become a bruised chew toy for the pooch, but I wasn't - for the pooch.

The fellow who owned the beast came running out of his house and gave me hell for kicking his prized, if slightly insane and totally vicious - pet.

He, I'm sure, understood what I suggested about his lineage and what he could do with his goddamned boxer. I'm not sure what I suggested is anatomically even possible but it made him even madder to hear it.

It wasn't too long after that the Lakewood began enforcing a leash law for dogs and daytime was suddenly almost safe for bike riders whizzing past dogs. But at night, many of the same dogs were let loose once the sun went down and even walking could be very interesting.

I never had trouble with that boxer again, though.