A bicycling story

There won't be any ride today because we have hockey again. I walked up to the end of the street and got a picture of this street sign. It is my own personal sign. Even though we live on a Dead End Street (I like that capitalized, makes it seem more imposingly DEAD END) when we moved in there was no sign. Cars would come racing down the street not realizing there was no where to go down here. Disappointed they would do a high speed u-turn in the cul de sac and go racing away. It didn't seem safe. I wrote a letter to the city pointing out it was a dead end street without a sign and that all of the other dead end streets seemed to have signs. I asked for a sign. Then I went around and got all of the neighbors to sign the letter. Within a week there was a sign. My own personal Dead End sign.Here is a bicycling experience I had on November 12, the day after Veterans Day. I didn't blog about it at the time because I was worried about the dog. I wrote all the details down though, and sent them in an e-mail to my sister.

Wednesday while riding I went past the place where this event occurred. The same dog and its owner came out of the house, the dog on a leash this time as they set out for a walk. The dog came barking and snarling out to the end of its leash, acting for all the world as if it wanted a piece of me. I deduce that the dog is OK. Here is the story as I wrote it on November 12:

A New Experience

After having ridden lots and lots of miles I was starting to believe that I had experienced all or at least nearly all of the things I was going to experience on a bicycle.

Today I ran over a dog.

I was riding south on Pascal just past Larpenteur in Falcon Heights. I ride a lot with my hands on the hoods and a lot with my hands on the bar tops, alternating those positions to avoid discomfort from too long in one position. When I am near or in traffic I am on the hoods to enable me to have my fingers closer to the brake levers. I had just crossed Larpenteur and my hand position was still up on the hoods of which I am now quite glad.

Everyone who rides a bike a lot gets chased by a dog at least once in a while. It is rare in a leash law city but it does happen here although I think it has been a couple of years for me since I was last chased by a dog.

I heard him first, you always hear them first. My first impression was that something was barking and getting closer. My usual reaction to dogs has become to try to give them a command that I hope they understand and hope that they will obey. I give a loud and I hope authoritative "NO". It has worked plenty of times in the past. Today I had time for a single "NO".

I was looking back and to my right trying to locate the dog when the location of the barking made it clear that he had circled into the street and was now on my left and next to the bike. I had only time to look that way and see him when he suddenly crossed in front of my front wheel.

The only direct experience I have with hitting a dog was television coverage of Marcus Burghardt hitting a dog during the 2007 Tour de France.

I am no dog expert but I am pretty sure the dog I hit was a Pug, a smallish dog, not a lap dog, but smallish, probably about 20 pounds, smaller than Burghardt's dog.

I had only time to realize that I was going to hit a dog, he was inches in front of my front wheel as I traveled at 12 or so mph, there was absolutely no possibility of anything other than hitting him.

I had that brief realization that I have always had in the moment before I fall off my bike that I was going to fall off my bike. I absolutely KNEW that I was going down. In the split second that I had I grasped the hoods tightly and braced myself for impact.

My dog was smaller than Burghardt's dog, mine was really more like a really large speed bump. And unbelievably, that was the result. I rolled right over him, right across the middle of his body.

The wheel did NOT taco, I hit him full on, I had maximum leverage from having a hand position as far as possible from the pivot point, I was braced. Unbelievably, I did NOT go down, my bicycle rolled over his body and continued on upright. The dog yelped and ran away.

It took a couple of seconds for me to register that I was still upright and riding during which time I traveled another half block or so. When I looked back the dog owner had come out from her yard to the edge of her driveway and was retrieving the dog. I turned around and went back.

The dog was still occasionally whimpering as a I approached. I apologized to her, telling her that I had run over her dog but explained that I had had no chance to miss him as he had run right in front of my bike.

She asked if I had run over one of his legs, I had to say no, right over the middle of his body.

I apologized again, she said it wasn't my fault. I think she was right, it wasn't my fault. I apologized again and said I hope the dog is OK and I meant it.

She started inside her house with her dog, I rode away.

I was watching my front wheel and it seemed to be OK. But after a couple of miles as some normalcy started to return I realized that I had had a pretty major EVENT. I pulled over and examined my bike. I looked at every spoke, front wheel and back wheel. I examined the junctions of spoke to hub, spoke to rim, front and back, examined the hubs, examined the rims, front and back. I spun both wheels and they both spun true. The bike seemed OK. I rode on and eventually rode 18 miles after the event before reaching home. I think the bicycle is OK.

I wonder if the dog is OK. About 20 pounds, hit by 165 pounds of human and a 15 pound bicycle moving more that 10 mph, force concentrated into that extremely narrow bicycle tire. I rolled right over the middle of his body, although I think far enough forward to be rib cage. It can't possibly have been good for that dog.

But I don't think it is my fault. I hope the dog is OK.