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Squeezed by a lumber truck

There are several big things to report from last Saturday's ride out of Collettesville, into rather remote areas west of Lenoir.  Getting chased by dogs always raises one's adrenaline level.  By nothing spikes the excitement meter quite like getting squeezed off the road by an oncoming lumber truck.

We were nearing the end of a 46-miler, threading our way down a winding two lane road.  As we drafted down a sharp right hander, we came upon a lumber truck.  The truck wasn't holding its line in the oncoming lane and was drifting to center, closing onto the apex of the turn.

The first few riders had clearance room, but as the last few riders came past (me included) the door was slamming shut.  I was watching the rear axles come upon me as I hugged the shoulderless asphalt to far right.   It was like riding through a small gate at speed...a gate that was closing.

I maybe had two feet or so from the truck to the ditch and in a second it was all over, we were safely past.  We regrouped at the next intersection and debriefed.  More than anger, it was amazement.  There's something exhilarating that comes with subverted danger.  We got our dose on that day.  I'm not one for foolish endeavors, but when you can't avoid the risk, you slip through and feel very alive in the moment.  It's not something that occurs in my 54-year-old-life often.  Once in a great while is enough!

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