[thechat] what did you say?

Drew Shiel gothwalk at gmail.com
Wed Oct 25 14:41:34 CDT 2006

On 10/24/06, Luther, Ron <Ron.Luther at hp.com> wrote:

> Ah!  It's onna them Irish derriere terriers then?

   Back when I hitch-hiked everywhere (still would if it didn't worry
my wife), there was a terrier in Ballon, Co. Carlow who was notorious
among hitch-hikers the length and breadth of the country. He lived
just beyond a major junction, so the number of us who walked past his
gate was pretty high. He used to charge out from under the gate,
roaring like a beast ten times his size, and pursue you until you'd
covered about a quarter mile, or he could sink his teeth into your

  My first encounter with him wasn't pleasant. The second, however, I
was ready. I had my Swedish army boots on. These things were built in
1963. They had square toes, blocks of wood in the soles, leather over
a quarter inch thick. A car once ran over my toe, and the only way I
knew about it was the track across the boot.

   Mister Terrier came tearing out, barking his brains out. He caught
up to me - you can't run in those boots anyway - and opened his maw
wide to get a grip on my ankle. He clamped on. He tried the Terrier
Maneuver, which is ineffective on a full-sized male human. He glanced
up at me with a worried expression. He tried again. The growl was
turning into a whine. I grinned at him as he looked up, and poked him
with the other toe. He turned and ran, tail between his legs, howling.
It was a small victory, but it was worthwhile.

   I miss hitch-hiking. I and a Londoner who called herself Jenny
Sparks won the informal Youth Hostel cross-country hitching
competition twice, Bunclody to Limerick and back in five hours
forty-five minutes. A couple will get lifts faster than anyone on
their own, two guys, or two girls.


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