Watch for Dogs

June 4, 2026

by Tom Ewing

A sign posted along Route 76 north of Blacksburg, the home of Virginia Tech, reads: “Slow. Watch for Dogs.” This sign may prompt a series of questions and responses from a cyclist, including what kind of dogs (friendly, hostile, big, small, fast) and where (behind a fence, on the road, or behind a tree). The recommendat, “slow,” may be appropriate for a car driver, who needs to watch for dogs to avoid hitting them, but is counter-intuitive for a cyclist, whose likely respond to hearing or seeing a dog is to ride as fast as possible, in the hope that a human-powered bicycle on wheels can outpace a four-legged creature.

Dogs were an important dimension of the Bikecentennial ride in 1976, particularly in the two states furthest east, Virginia and Kentucky. Bill Palmer, a reporter for the Anniston Star (Alabama), was riding with a Bikecentennial group from Williamsburg to Carbondale, Illinois, when he was “ambushed by several barking dogs” near the town of Elko: “One of them lunged at one of my rear panniers (saddlebags) and knocked it into the spokes, bending a metal plate in the pannier. I stomped out the bend with my foot and continued. The owner of the dogs appeared belatedly and chased them under her house.” Palmer later discovered that the spokes had broken, which eventually required a new wheel, shipped to Troutville, which resulted in a more pleasant experience for the remainder of the trip. Judy Campbell, whose photograph appeared in the Anniston Star, assisted Palmer in fixing the broken wheel after the dog attack.

Palmer’s reflections on the trip illustrated the impressions and experiences of many Bikecentennial riders: “I’m more than half way through a 1,000 mile vacation across the eastern United States and I haven’t spent a penny on gas. Unlike some high-speed travelers, I don’t have those interstate blues because I travel almost exclusively on narrow, scenic back roads that wind through farm land and over forested mountains…I’m not in too much of a hurry to stop and chat with the pleasant country folks along the route because I only go 50 or 60 miles a day. I’m experiencing the sights and smells of rural America from the seat of a 10-speed bicycle at little cost other than my own energy. Such a journey is not without hardship. I’ve suffered mechanical breakdowns, sweated up long hills on breezeless afternoons, slept on hard floors and been sick, lame and saddle sore. But I’m having the time of my life!”