Disaster Strikes

So there I was finishing up a 60 mile ride in which my headwind died right about the time I started to make my way back (naturally). I had been cruising through the Loess Hills Southeast of Sioux City on my Pilot 5.0, jamming out to some Brandi Carlile, when I saw something that nearly broke my heart. There, in the other lane, was a squirrel that apparently had been involved in an "accident" moments earlier. Its hind legs were bloodied and useless. It was using what was undoubtedly its last bits of energy and its last breathes here on earth to senselessly drag itself off the road to safety. I now know what it must feel like to see the ravages of war. (Note to actual war veterans: I'm kidding about that part.) I wanted to help it, put it out of its misery, anything...but I chose not to intervene. Maybe I'm just a softie.