When I was about 17 or 18 exploring off in the woods on my mountain bike as I often did I followed an unknown trail, after awhile I came into salvage yard on an Indian reserve, before I could head back this dog ran out and started biting me, fortunately as I was pedalling fast it only could get my shoe I managed to make my way through to the proper driveway and road and get the hell out of there. The strange part was shortly after getting home there was a call on my phone, the name / number was that of the salvage yard! I didn't answer the phone, but how in the hell could they know who I was? I live in a city of 500,000, not exactly a small town. Maybe it was just a wrong number / coincidence but to me that was an unexplainable thing that happened to me.
