[Buffalobob]

February, 1975, I walked out of the building to my blue Datzun 260 Z, cranked it up and headed north out of Mobile to Birmingham. After spending the evening with my GF, I headed on toward home. Rolling about 90 to 100 mph at 3:00 in the morning east of Oneota and about a mile short of Tait's gap, I came to a long right hand curve. Eased back on the pedal and let it go through at about 80 mph until past the apex. Pushed it back to the floor and suddenly a big ole hound dog rose up right out of the middle of the road where he was sleeping. Not much to do but keep the pedal in the carpet and go over him. The Z lifted up pretty bad but stayed lined up on the road and I eased up and let it coast to a stop. Sat there listening to the engine and watching the gauges fro a few minutes. Finally got out to check the lights and see if fluid was dripping from the engine anywhere. Once I determined the car was OK I decided to go back and make sure the dog was actually dead and finish the job if need be. Drove back up the road and there was no dog, just blood and goo in the road. Sat there thinking about it for a while and finally put the car back in gear and turned it around. As I wound the Z back up to speed, I got to wondering how a dog that stupid had lived long enough to get that big.

Perhaps he was on steroids.