Went to Yellowstone on my Commando in 1971. In the middle of the park at a turnout, there out in a meadow, saw a woman standing next to a buffalo getting her picture taken. Idiot, I thought and put it in gear and left.
Next morning, eating buffalo burger and eggs and reading the local newspaper. Headlline is "Man stomped to death by buffalo while wife takes pictures." Ooooh, maybe same couple. Later, driving through glacial moraine country and come around a big hump and there in the road - 50 or 60 feet away - is a buffalo. Standing there. Then more buffalo crossing the road. Idling, idling. Bike stalled. More buffalo. Shit, can they smell the buffalo burger on my breath? Uh oh - out of the side of my eye - buffalo coming from behind, . . . . Uh oh, more buffalo . . . now they're all around. Buffalo walking past me, 6 feet away! Each one lookin at me with that one huge eye. . . . . From the top of their horns to the end of their beards, their heads are maybe 5 foot tall; their backs maybe 4 foot. Scary. Took a few minutes for em all to pass. Obviously, I lived to tell about it.
