Squirrel VS Motorcyle posted 8/18/2008 5:21:25 AM | 3 kudos what's this?     report abuse

rescueremedy

Goodmorning , I hope you like this .....If you seen it before .....i hope you enjoy it another time .......J Skwirl this is for you ....

Why the Cops Won't Patrol Brice Street Anymore

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
peeved -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

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