Schexnayder
New Member
I never dreamed that 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 missle 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 & chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and leather gloves, puttering at maybe 25mph
down a quiet residential street, 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 strenth, 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 with a
resounding thump and amazing impact, he landed squarely on my back and resumed his rather anitsocial and extremely
distracting activities. He also managed to take my 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 & chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a slightly squirrel torn t-shirt, wearing only one
leather glove and roaring at maybe 50mph and rapidly accelerating down a quiet residential street on one wheel, 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 handlbars 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 was an evil
mutant “Ninja“ 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. 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 & chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a very raggedly torn t-shirt, wearing only one
leather glove, roaring at probably 80mph, 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 & chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a torn t-shirt
flapping in the breeze and wearing only one leather glove, moving at probably 80mph on one wheel, screaming bloody murder,
roars by and with all his strength throws a live squirrel grenade directly into your patrol 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
retrieve my glove), 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,
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. 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 a whole lot of band-aids.
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 missle 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 & chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and leather gloves, puttering at maybe 25mph
down a quiet residential street, 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 strenth, 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 with a
resounding thump and amazing impact, he landed squarely on my back and resumed his rather anitsocial and extremely
distracting activities. He also managed to take my 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 & chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a slightly squirrel torn t-shirt, wearing only one
leather glove and roaring at maybe 50mph and rapidly accelerating down a quiet residential street on one wheel, 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 handlbars 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 was an evil
mutant “Ninja“ 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. 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 & chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a very raggedly torn t-shirt, wearing only one
leather glove, roaring at probably 80mph, 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 & chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a torn t-shirt
flapping in the breeze and wearing only one leather glove, moving at probably 80mph on one wheel, screaming bloody murder,
roars by and with all his strength throws a live squirrel grenade directly into your patrol 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
retrieve my glove), 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,
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. 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 a whole lot of band-aids.