Why did the turkeys cross the road?

To freak ME out, that's why.

Two, count them, one, two, full grown, full blown, brown plummaged female turkeys (what is a female turkey called...a hen?), were attempting to cross the road in front of me.

The two wild turkeys were clipping along at a good rate as they approached the roadside.

I was doing 65 mph down a two-lane highway out in the countryside just west of town.

These two wild turkeys were fast buggers, and were entering my lane before my brain could process the fact that there were actually two wild turkeys crossing the country road in front of me.

I didn't brake. The only thing that was anti-lock in my old Chevy were my bowels, which I was currently in danger of "anti-locking" all over myself.

Besides, I was, after all in a 4000 lb. solidly built American muscle car/truck from the early 70's. What could happen?

Umm, hitting a 30 lb. fleshy/feathered object at 65 mph...I could die, that's what could happen.

I didn't swerve. Impulsive steering at high speeds in these old beasts don't reveal Indy car reaction times, so attempting a dodge maneuver wasn't at the top of my quickly shrinking list of turkey avoidance procedures.

Instead, I did what any red-blooded American male with a high-horsepower classic muscle car would do.
I floored it -- hoping that I might outrun the future Thanksgiving day feasts on four feet.

The g-forces were instant and exhilerating as my Edelbrock carb greedily enjoyed every bit of the 650 cfm alloted to it, sucking dino juice and air into it's bowels, to be turned into instant horsepower for my aging Bowtie beast.

With aplogies to Clement C. Moore...I glanced to my right for I knew the birds were near,
when what do my wandering eyes did appear,
but two turkeys flying over (yes over) my rear!
The turkeys used their little brains and decided they didn't want to tangle with a 4000 lb. moving object. Instead, I was treated to a prime rear view mirror seat of their flights of fancy, up and over the tailgate of my car.

If only I could be as graceful as a turkey.

Bet if they were male turkeys, they would have most definitely played "chicken" with me and have "gone for it."