Officer Delano Berube was running a radar speed trap along Ryder Road, about a mile south of Tub Mountain near Whitehall, New York. It was early morning and there was not much traffic. Officer Berube had his widow cracked as there was a light rain falling.
“That is when I first heard the screaming,” Berube, now retired told a table of Sasquatch Hunters at a recent convention, “Sounded like a wild animal and one of those ladies in the horror pictures.”
“I shut off the engine to get a better bead on the direction of the screams and was just about to radio it in, when the bushes a few feet in front of my cruiser shook like we were in a terrible winter storm, unnatural like. Especially, since there was hardly a breeze that morning.”
“If you remember, I had switched off my cruiser, which I realized when the beast started toward me. In a pure moment of training, I flipped on the overhead cherries and siren. The Bigfoot stopped dead in the road. It threw its hands up over its ears. Then turned its left shoulder down, just like a running back would the moment of a hand off.”
“I knew it planned on ramming right into my cruiser, but its pause was just enough time for me to start the car and throw her into drive. I peeled out. Just was the creature was about to shoulder into my hood, I took evasive maneuver and the damn thing hit the side of the car instead. Banged it up good. Had to replace the door, in fact.”
“I half expected the car to flip, but it kept going. The creature took chase, it was fast enough to stay about three car lengths behind me. Grunting and growling the whole time. It finally broke off when I crossed over Wood Creek. Damned thing just stopped and screeched bloody murder.”