Sarah
refuses to ride in Kentucky any more.
Gene would love to refuse to ride in Kentucky any more. And I can’t say I blame them.
Let me
digress.
About a week
ago we ran into another Trans Am cyclist (I love using the lingo!) heading
west. She joined her warnings to those
we’d previously heard and labeled exaggeration about the viciousness of the dogs
in Kentucky. But this time she showed us
the scar on her leg that had required an emergency room visit and antibiotics.
That day I
went to WalMart and bought out their supply of pepper spray. You know, that stuff every parent wants their
single daughter to carry when she moves to New York City, but that’s illegal to
sell in New York, but that’s available everywhere in Kentucky.
At WalMart
it’s sold in the gun department.
Imagine this
Northeastern liberal pacifist who won’t even allow her kids to have toy guns,
going into the gun department, and shopping right next to the holsters and
sights. It was a surreal and extremely
disturbing experience for me.
First there were
the feminine items – pink holsters, pink edged camo, pink knives, and best of
all the pink guns. Then there was the
big unshaven guy buying ammo. Then I had
to pay next to the mother buying a rifle for her all of ten year old son.
I’m
surprised I didn’t clutch my head and run screaming from the store, or worse
yet confirm their worst fears about commie socialist tree-hugging New Yorkers
by launching into a tirade about the dangers of easy access to weapons.
But I kept
my outnumbered head, quietly paid for my pepper spray, and calmly walked out of
the store. Of course, inside I was lecturing
vociferously as I sprinted away faster than an Olympic athlete going for the
gold medal.
The very
next day Gene had to use the spray. And the
next. And the next. Then came today, when he and Sarah were
chased by a pack of three dogs. As luck,
or the canny hunting sense of animals left to their own devices, would have it the
biggest went after Sarah.
And as any
father would, Gene unloaded everything in the spray at him and they rode
away as fast as their shaking legs would carry them. But Sarah was really traumatized and was
still shaking when I caught up with them twenty minutes later.
As I
listened to their story my mind went back to the advice of the salesman at
WalMart when I asked him about the safety of using the spray on a dog.
"Pepper spray, huh?" he said looking me
in the eye before he matter of factly counseled, “I’d get a gun.”
Right now
this New York commie socialist liberal tree-hugging pacifist protective mother is
seriously considering his advice.
To learn more about Connor's Army go to www.ConnorsArmy.org
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