I'm pretty sure I hit a squirrel the other day. If by "pretty sure" you mean "absolutely certain." All I know is that my bicycle and a squirrel occupied the same space for an instant. I squealed. The squirrel may have, too. But when I looked back at the path, the unfortunate rodent had scurried into the woods. So... Sorry, squirrel. I felt fairly sick afterwards. I really hope that it wasn't too damaged. And based on my past encounters, it seems that I'm lucky that neither I nor my bike were damaged. Now I'm all squirrel-anoid. When I hear the unmistakable rustling in the undergrowth, I imagine it's all its little squirrel buddies, chattering to each other: "That's the one that got Chuck. Let's get her!" And I'm always watching for the little fuckers to jump out in front of me.
It's good to know that I am not alone.
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1 comment:
that hurts
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