So I was out riding the countryside like two weeks ago. Just kinda picked a direction and rode. South, into the hills. I may've benefited by having a more.... planned route in mind, but I'll get into that later.
Now, I've been chased by dogs before, and it's always an energizing experience, but really I've been able to keep a good distance between me and them. I've learned to keep an extra ounce of leg for just those instances. But this time, I had friggin' Wishbone chasing me through gravel up a hill in traffic. Then, half an hour later, I had a German Shepherd trying to bite my ankles! He actually ran me off the road for a bit, which wasn't a big deal or anything, but still, the shock.
Then, another half-hour later, Google Maps failed me for the first time! On the route I was taking, the road (according to my phone) took a hairpin turn and then connected with a straight drive back to the city. But in reality, that road never took that sharp left turn, and turned into dirt in between a horse farm (ranch?) and a redneck outpost (which was actually rather quaint). But there I was, chased by dogs, stranded and semi-lost in the middle of Banjo-County Arkansas, and wearing bright red Lycra.
Not a good situation.
Eventually, I got over my stubbornness and accepted that I had to turn around. Although, feasibly, I could have continued over the dirt/gravel roads, but I had no idea where they were going, so that prolly wasn't a good idea. But I went back the way I came, past the dogs again (who this time didn't even bark), and yeah, back to civilization.
The trip back never seems to amount to much, this time was no different.
