It was cold out. It was raining. The clouds were dark, low and we seemed to be fighting to get through these beasts. It was all to eerie and little did I know what was about to happen next.

Out of no where comes a kamikaze heathen… a gigantic winged animal, which for it’s size, could have been mistaken for a pterodactyl swooping in to take it’s prey. The prey being me, the poor, unsuspecting, law-abiding citizen minding his own business.

When I saw it, I was terrified. Horrific memories of my brother’s previous encounter with the killer deer raced through my head. Flashing before my eyes as if Stephen King was directing another one of his horror films or writing another murderous plot. I started to shake.

I had to assess the situation and act quickly if I wanted to miss the blood-drenched talons of this beady-eyed monster whom looked as if he hadn’t had a meal in two weeks.

I dropped my shoulder and jerked the bike to the right.

He followed.

I then jerked my bike to the left.

He followed again.

Unable to evade the monster, I remember what bromate had said about his previous encounter: “When I knew there was no going around, I sped  up and took the creature head-on.”

Naturally, instincts kicked in. I dropped a gear, ripped the throttle down and aimed directly into the belly of the beast. If I was going down, he was coming with me.

As he got closer, I realized he was about the size of a deck of cards and luckily he swooped too low, bounced off DTM’s head, hit the ground, kicked up and hit my foot, which lodged the tweety bird into my engine. I survived to tell another tall tale.

Pic of the carnage:

The Monster

LB safe and sound on his Harley in Sturgis.