HOG: Mike and Liz

I was riding along in the waning sunlight on a particularly favourite section of pavement. I wasn't in a hurry, but I was moving along at a fair clip; perhaps 100 kph. The heat of the day was finally being replaced with a cool refreshing breeze, and long shadows cast from nearby trees fell across the road in irregular patterns. My eye caught sight of one shadow that did not appear quite right. It was darker and seemed to shift unnaturally. As my brain tried to decipher this incomplete information, the shadow materialized into a large raccoon. It was so large that I thought for a split second that it might have been a small bear, but then my time ran out for any more thinking.

I was almost on top of the animal, and there was little I could do to avoid it. If I swerved to the right I could end up in the ditch. Going left was no better because the coon was heading in that direction and I couldn't trust that it would maintain a steady pace. That left me with one other choice; I braced myself for impact. As the remaining feet between us vanished, my thoughts revolved around the nickname given to the FL's fat front tires; cat squashers. Gawd I hoped that name had some basis in reality. KA-THUNK! The bike wiggled momentarily and it was all over. I was relieved to find that I was still upright and moving. I looked down and could see no apparent damage to the bike, nor any sign of a hitchhiker wedged in. I looked in the mirror and I thought I could see a shape moving back towards the shoulder, but I couldn't be sure.

Fifteen minutes later I was parked at Mike and Liz's place. There I found a large tuft of fur caught in the bracketrie of the crash bar and highway peg, but no blood. The raccoon probably had received a solid blow to its head, which I hoped wasn't life threatening. Later that night when I retraced my path back home, I could find no sign of road kill anywhere; perhaps the raccoon was as lucky as I was in our unfortunate encounter.

Mike and Liz left the chapter later that year. Near the end, they seemed to be looking over their shoulders worrying about some outlaw bikers they had a run in with. I really don't know what kind of trouble they had gotten themselves into, nor is it likely that I ever will. They moved away and left no forwarding address.