I hit a Saint Bernard that was lying across the road in the middle of an "s" curve at night. I was going about 60 in a beat to Heck 1983 Pontiac Parisian station wagon that was sagging down to the point it almost scraped the road. My buddy and I only had time to see the dog, look and one another and scream AHHHHHH as the huge beast of a dog made an attempt to stand. He just had time to look back at us over his humungous doggy shoulder as the lights of the Pontiac bore down upon him.
We braced for impact but that damn car was so heavy we hardly felt a thing it was like waiting to run over a small pony and as you tense up waiting for the collision it just kind of never happens. So we let out a sigh of relief and went back to survey the damage.
I expected to see a ripped up carcass, twitching madly in the roadway perhaps howling in agony but there was nary a sign of blood, fur, or dog. That Bernard must have been the Michael Johnson of the dog world because he hauled his big ass out of the way at warp factor 5. I bet that dogs owner will have to pluck the poop from his fur cause he had to s*** himself as he made his miraculous escape.
I did hit a bird dog once with my RX7 that thing bounced off that sloping hood like a pinball bouncing off a bumper. He was ok and ran off luckily the sloped hood saved him and didn't even dent my car.
Of course we also thought perhaps some how the giant Bernard had got stuck beneath the car and played a game of,"You look under the car, NO! You look." for about 15 minutes before we both agreed to take a side of the car and we counted to three 1,2,3 and we both looked at the same time. As I quickly darted my head under the car to see if in fact a ball of mangled dog flesh was trapped underneath my buddy belted out a growl and scared me bad enough to scrape my ear on the frame as I quickly removed my head form underneath the car. It was one of those times I wish I hadn't seen Cujo. This was probably like the redneck great grandson of Cujo waiting for some poor white kid to come barreling along this back woods, hick road in his wood paneled 83 wagon, that look like it had been through Desert Storm, at 4am to get eaten...
We braced for impact but that damn car was so heavy we hardly felt a thing it was like waiting to run over a small pony and as you tense up waiting for the collision it just kind of never happens. So we let out a sigh of relief and went back to survey the damage.
I expected to see a ripped up carcass, twitching madly in the roadway perhaps howling in agony but there was nary a sign of blood, fur, or dog. That Bernard must have been the Michael Johnson of the dog world because he hauled his big ass out of the way at warp factor 5. I bet that dogs owner will have to pluck the poop from his fur cause he had to s*** himself as he made his miraculous escape.
I did hit a bird dog once with my RX7 that thing bounced off that sloping hood like a pinball bouncing off a bumper. He was ok and ran off luckily the sloped hood saved him and didn't even dent my car.
Of course we also thought perhaps some how the giant Bernard had got stuck beneath the car and played a game of,"You look under the car, NO! You look." for about 15 minutes before we both agreed to take a side of the car and we counted to three 1,2,3 and we both looked at the same time. As I quickly darted my head under the car to see if in fact a ball of mangled dog flesh was trapped underneath my buddy belted out a growl and scared me bad enough to scrape my ear on the frame as I quickly removed my head form underneath the car. It was one of those times I wish I hadn't seen Cujo. This was probably like the redneck great grandson of Cujo waiting for some poor white kid to come barreling along this back woods, hick road in his wood paneled 83 wagon, that look like it had been through Desert Storm, at 4am to get eaten...
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