My possum story:

I was 16 and hitchhiking across country with two girls, a blond (this was my sweet of the week) and a brunette, not to attractive but the truckers liked her, got us rides. We had been let off somewhere in Virginia and where walking along the railroad tracks when I spied the biggest rat head I had ever seen. Being a city guy my whole life I was not particularly enthralled with rodents, especially ones that size. My girl, who had been raised in the country just started chuckling at at my astonishment that rats grew so big in the country and proceeded to explain to me what possums where, all I could think about was how big the teeth where and was there anymore nearby. This is the same girl I was with, on the same day, that I was attacked by a ferocious farm dog. After being assured that other possums weren't nearby and really wouldn't be hunting me, we continued on our way. A couple of hours later we where walking alongside a fence that had some bulls in the field when a dog came running across the grass from the other direction barking and growling like I was his nights meal, being quick, I hopped the fence, not knowing that bulls are not particularly nice animals, (remember, city guy, thinking Moo cow) when I turned back to the girls, there was mine, rubbing the dogs belly and informing me that cows with horns that are snorting and pounding the ground are infinitely more unpleasant to deal with than a barking dog. Not mucho macho that day. The evening turned out better in a cabin in the woods.

Five years later, I had since found out that possums will bite, they do not always play dead. I was out doing my best Disco Dan with a girl who had an incredible pair of legs. Mucho Macho, smokin the dance floor and spouting lines Travolta couldn't keep up with. We had left the last dance club and where heading to a quiet spot in her little firebird when a possum ran out in front of us. You could hear and feel it as it rolled around under the car. This girl, being sympathetic to wildlife, decides to get out and see if it is okay. Me, I'm remembering the big teeth of one I had seen years before and learning that they will bite. Leave it there, the road crew will get it later. She decides it isn't right to leave it in the middle of the road and proceeds to get out of the car, grab the tail of the dead possum and drag it to the side of the road where it wouldn't get smashed to bits by other vehicles. Boy has my machismo been beat up. As we drive off I decide for some odd reason to go around the block to look at our contribution to the roadkill population of Pennsylvania. It was gone, they do play possum. Again, the night turned out okay in that little quiet out of the way spot.