Biker and a Squirrel
A friend from Texas sent me this tonight.....
I never dreamed slowly cruising on my motorcycle through a residential
neighborhood could be so incredibly dangerous! Little did I suspect!
The weather has been unseasonably warm in Austin, so I got the bike
out to go for a ride. 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, fear not. 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 VTX 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, "Bonsai!" 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 squirrel was causing me more than a little concern. In fact,
the furry little tornado was doing some serious damage to my clothes and my skin!
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 angry
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
amazing impact, he landed squarely on my back and resumed his rather
antisocial 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 force of the throw and only having
one hand on the handlebars (the throttle hand) caused a jerking backwards
motion which put a healthy twist through my right hand and into the
throttle. A healthy twist on the throttle of a VTX can only have one
result. Lots of torque. This is what the VTX 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 VTX 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 left 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 part way, he began hissing
in my face. I am quite sure my screaming changed intensity. However, it had little effect on the
squirrel. The RPMs on the Dragon maxed-out (since I was not bothering with
shifting at the moment) so the bikes 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 the squirrels 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 ... but not exactly in a good way.
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 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).
Honest. I really would have. Except for two things.
First, the cops did not seem interested or the slightest bit concerned
about me at that 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 patrol car.
The cop who had been in the driver's seat is now standing in the street and aiming a
riot shotgun at his own police car. So, the cops were definitely not interested in me,
at that point in time.
Besides, they often say to "let the professionals handle it" anyway. That was
one reason for not going back. The other? Well, I could clearly see shredded and flying pieces
of foam and upholstery from the back seat of the patrol car. And I could swear I saw the
squirrel in the back window, shaking his little fist at me. That is one
dangerous squirrel! Now he has taken control of a police car. A somewhat shredded police
car ... but it was all his ... no question about it.
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 a large box of Band-Aids.
George
[ Author Unknown -- from 'Buffalos Chips' (buffalos-g-jokes.yahoogroups.com) -- Ed:Anon. ]
Inspirational Humor
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