don't know if it's true...don't even care. this is too funny!
Hysterical Squirrel story
I never dreamed slowly cruising on my motorcycle through a residential
neighborhood could be so incredibly dangerous! Little did I suspect...
I was on Brice Street - a very nice neighborhood with perfect lawns and slow traffic.
As I passed an oncoming car, a brown furry missile shot out from under it
and tumbled to a stop immediately in front of me. It was a squirrel, and must
have been trying to run across the road when it encountered the car.
I really was not going very fast, but there was no time to brake or avoid it - it was
that close. I hate to run over animals, and I really hate it on a motorcycle, but a squirrel should
pose no danger to me. I barely had time to brace for the impact. Animal lovers, never fear.
Squirrels, I discovered, can take care of themselves! Inches before impact, the squirrel
flipped to his feet. He was standing on his hind legs and facing my oncoming Valkyrie
with steadfast resolve in his little beady eyes. His mouth opened, and at the last possible
second, he screamed and leapt!
I am pretty sure the scream was squirrel for, "Bonzai!" or maybe, "Die you gravy-sucking,
heathen scum!" The leap was nothing short of spectacular ... as he shot straight up,
flew over my windshield, and impacted me squarely in the chest. Instantly, he set upon
me. If I did not know better, I would have sworn he brought 20 of his little buddies along for
the attack. Snarling, hissing, and tearing at my clothes, he was a frenzy of activity.
As I was dressed only in a light t-shirt, summer riding gloves, and jeans this was a bit of
a cause for concern.
This furry little tornado was doing some damage! Picture a large man on a huge black
and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and leather gloves, puttering at maybe 25 mph
down a quiet residential street, and in the fight of his life with a squirrel. And losing...
I grabbed for him with my left hand. After a few misses, I finally managed to snag his tail.
With all my strength, I flung the evil rodent off to the left of the bike, almost running into the
right curb as I recoiled from the throw.
That should have done it. The matter should have ended right there. It really should have.
The squirrel could have sailed into one of the pristinely kept yards and gone on about his
business, and I could have headed home. No one would have been the wiser. But this was
no ordinary squirrel. This was not even an ordinary pissed-off squirrel. This was an EVIL
MUTANT ATTACK SQUIRREL OF DEATH! Somehow he caught my gloved finger with
one of his little hands and, with the force of the throw, swung around and with a resounding
thump and an amazing impact, he landed squarely on my back and resumed his rather
anti-social and extremely distracting activities. He also managed to take my left glove with him!
The situation was not improved. Not improved at all. His attacks were continuing, and now
I could not reach him. I was startled to say the least. The combination of the force of the
throw, only having one hand (the throttle hand) on the handlebars, and my jerking
back unfortunately put a healthy twist through my right hand and into the throttle.
A healthy twist on the throttle of a Valkyrie can only have one result.Torque.
This is what the Valkyrie is made for, and she is very, very good at it. The engine roared
and the front wheel left the pavement. The squirrel screamed in anger. The Valkyrie
screamed in ecstasy. I screamed in ... well ... I just plain screamed.
Now picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans,
a slightly squirrel-torn-t-shirt, wearing only one leather glove, and roaring at maybe
50 mph and rapidly accelerating down a quiet residential street on one wheel and
with a demonic squirrel on his back. The man and the squirrel are both screaming
bloody murder. With the sudden acceleration I was forced to put my other hand back on
the handlebars and try to get control of the bike. This was leaving the mutant squirrel
to his own devices, but I really did not want to crash into somebody's tree, house, or
parked car.
Also, I had not yet figured out how to release the throttle .... my brain was just simply
overloaded. I did manage to mash the back brake, but it had little effect against the
massive power of the big cruiser. About this time the squirrel decided that I was not
paying sufficient attention to this very serious battle (maybe he is an evil mutant NAZI
attack squirrel of death), and he came around my neck and got INSIDE my full-face
helmet with me. As the faceplate closed partway, he began hissing in my face.
I am quite sure my screaming changed intensity. It had little effect on the squirrel, however.
The RPMs on The Dragon maxed out (since I was not bothering with shifting at the
moment) so her front end started to drop.
Now picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a
very raggedly-torn t-shirt, wearing only one leather glove, roaring at probably 80 mph,
still on one wheel, with a large puffy squirrel's tail sticking out of the mostly closed full-face
helmet. By now the screams are probably getting a little hoarse. Finally I got the upper
hand ... I managed to grab his tail again, pulled him out of my helmet, and slung him to
the left as hard as I could. This time it worked ... sort-of. Spectacularly sort-of ... so to speak.
Picture a new scene. You are a cop. You and your partner have pulled off on a quiet
residential street and parked with your windows down to do some paperwork.
Suddenly a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a torn
t-shirt flapping in the breeze, and wearing only one leather glove, moving at probably
80 mph on one wheel, and screaming bloody murder roars by and with all his strength
throws a live squirrel grenade directly into your police car.
I heard screams. They weren't mine... I managed to get the big motorcycle under control
and dropped the front wheel to the ground. I then used maximum braking and skidded to
a stop in a cloud of tire smoke at the stop sign of a busy cross street. I would have returned
to fess up (and to get my glove back). I really would have. Really.
Except for two things. First, the cops did not seem interested or the slightest bit concerned
about me at the moment. When I looked back, the doors on both sides of the patrol car were
flung wide open. The cop from the passenger side was on his back, doing a crab walk into
somebody's front yard, quickly moving away from the car. The cop who had been in the
driver's seat was standing in the street and was aiming a riot shotgun at his own police car.
So the cops were not interested in me. They often insist to "let the professionals handle it"
anyway. That was one thing.
The other? Well, I could clearly see shredded and flying pieces of foam and upholstery
from the back seat. But I could also swear I saw the squirrel in the back window, shaking
his little fist at me, shooting me the finger ... That is one dangerous squirrel. And now he
has a patrol car. A somewhat shredded patrol car ... but it was all his. I took a deep breath,
turned on my turn-signal, made a gentle right turn off of Brice Street, and sedately left the
neighborhood. I decided it was best to just buy myself a new pair of gloves. And some Band-Aids.
Glad I was able to brighten your day a bit 84Bill.
man.... you blew out the bulb and fried the entire system for hundreds of miles!
