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Angry Squirrel

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  • John Boyd
    Why not to cruise slowly. I never dreamed slowly cruising on my motorcycle through a residential neighborhood could be so incredibly dangerous! Little did I
    Message 1 of 8 , Nov 2, 2004
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      Why not to cruise slowly.

      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 beady little 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...

      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 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 an 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 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, with a demonic squirrel of death 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 was 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. 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, 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.

      Hope you enjoyed as much as I did.



      All the best,
      John

      The goal of life's journey is not to arrive at the grave safely in a well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, totally worn out, shouting "...man alive...what a ride!"

      ---------------------------------
      Do you Yahoo!?
      Check out the new Yahoo! Front Page. www.yahoo.com/a

      [Non-text portions of this message have been removed]
    • John Berry
      Man, John, they could make a movie outta that story! The Squirrel from Hell or Attack of the Mutant Squirrel That s an awesome tale or is that tail ! I
      Message 2 of 8 , Nov 2, 2004
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        Man, John, they could make a movie outta that story! "The Squirrel
        from Hell" or "Attack of the Mutant Squirrel" That's an awesome tale
        or is that "tail"!
        I hit a big ol' rabbit up on the Cherohala Skyway last yr coming out
        of a curve at about 75 mph, but it was not as eventful as your
        incident. He ran right out in front of me and I couldn't avoid
        him....I just looked down the road past him and rolled on the
        throttle. All I felt was 2 litlle bump bumps as both wheels went
        over him and I was pretty amazed that it didn't faze the G at all.
        Glad it ended as well as it did!

        Keep the faith, KyJohn

        --- In gsx1100g@yahoogroups.com, John Boyd <hickorylakehome@y...>
        wrote:
        > Why not to cruise slowly.
        >
        > 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 beady little 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...
        >
        > 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 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 an 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 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, with a demonic squirrel of
        death 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 was 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. 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, 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.
        >
        > Hope you enjoyed as much as I did.
        >
        >
        >
        > All the best,
        > John
        >
        > The goal of life's journey is not to arrive at the grave safely in
        a well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, totally worn
        out, shouting "...man alive...what a ride!"
        >
        > ---------------------------------
        > Do you Yahoo!?
        > Check out the new Yahoo! Front Page. www.yahoo.com/a
        >
        > [Non-text portions of this message have been removed]
      • Donovan Young
        OMG. I m laughing so hard my side hurts! That s a GREAT story, thanks for sharing. not to mention brightening up the day a bit. This should go on gsx1100g.com
        Message 3 of 8 , Nov 2, 2004
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          OMG. I'm laughing so hard my side hurts! That's a GREAT story, thanks for
          sharing. not to mention brightening up the day a bit.



          This should go on gsx1100g.com for prosperity (and to warn against slow
          cruises through squirrel infested neighborhoods). =)



          _____

          From: John Boyd [mailto:hickorylakehome@...]
          Sent: Tuesday, November 02, 2004 11:58 AM
          To: GSX Listserve
          Subject: [GSX1100G] Angry Squirrel



          Why not to cruise slowly.

          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
          beady little 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...

          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 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 an
          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 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, with a demonic squirrel of death 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 was 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. 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,
          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.

          Hope you enjoyed as much as I did.



          All the best,
          John

          The goal of life's journey is not to arrive at the grave safely in a well
          preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, totally worn out, shouting
          "...man alive...what a ride!"

          ---------------------------------
          Do you Yahoo!?
          Check out the new Yahoo! Front Page. www.yahoo.com/a

          [Non-text portions of this message have been removed]






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        • rjricelny
          OMG!!! That was the funniest thing I have read in a very long time! Thanks- and Gald you survived!
          Message 4 of 8 , Nov 2, 2004
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            OMG!!! That was the funniest thing I have read in a very long time!
            Thanks- and Gald you survived!
          • beerinmyear
            Funny, I thought I saw that story before ... time!
            Message 5 of 8 , Nov 2, 2004
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              Funny, I thought I saw that story before

              --- In gsx1100g@yahoogroups.com, "rjricelny" <rjricelny@y...> wrote:
              >
              > OMG!!! That was the funniest thing I have read in a very long
              time!
              > Thanks- and Gald you survived!
            • Donovan Young
              John, Did this really happen to you and did you actually write this story, or did you find it on the net? I m curious because I can tell you that it s being
              Message 6 of 8 , Nov 2, 2004
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                John,



                Did this really happen to you and did you actually write this story, or did
                you find it on the net?



                I'm curious because I can tell you that it's being forwarded around the
                internet as we speak. everyone I've sent it to has in turn sent it to
                others, so I wouldn't be surprised if your story joins the ranks of the
                classic email humor posts.



                I even put it up on my website to share with others.
                http://www.unixpro.net/squirrel.txt



                Great job if you are the author, you should think about writing as a career
                (if you aren't already doing that).



                Peace!



                Donovan

                _____

                From: John Boyd [mailto:hickorylakehome@...]
                Sent: Tuesday, November 02, 2004 11:58 AM
                To: GSX Listserve
                Subject: [GSX1100G] Angry Squirrel



                Why not to cruise slowly.

                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
                beady little 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...

                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 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 an
                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 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, with a demonic squirrel of death 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 was 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. 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,
                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.

                Hope you enjoyed as much as I did.



                All the best,
                John

                The goal of life's journey is not to arrive at the grave safely in a well
                preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, totally worn out, shouting
                "...man alive...what a ride!"

                ---------------------------------
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              • kreuswc
                Yeah, BJ posted it on April 19th (msg # 6246), It was funny then and it still is a funny story.
                Message 7 of 8 , Nov 2, 2004
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                  Yeah, BJ posted it on April 19th (msg # 6246), It was funny then and
                  it still is a funny story.

                  --- In gsx1100g@yahoogroups.com, beerinmyear <no_reply@y...> wrote:
                  >
                  > Funny, I thought I saw that story before
                  >
                  > --- In gsx1100g@yahoogroups.com, "rjricelny" <rjricelny@y...> wrote:
                  > >
                  > > OMG!!! That was the funniest thing I have read in a very long
                  > time!
                  > > Thanks- and Gald you survived!
                • davegoh
                  Great to be back... had a hell of a time trying to log-in. Anyway, the story is funny and was great splitting my sides (again). ... and
                  Message 8 of 8 , Nov 3, 2004
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                    Great to be back... had a hell of a time trying to log-in.

                    Anyway, the story is funny and was great splitting my sides (again).


                    --- In gsx1100g@yahoogroups.com, kreuswc <no_reply@y...> wrote:
                    >
                    > Yeah, BJ posted it on April 19th (msg # 6246), It was funny then
                    and
                    > it still is a funny story.
                    >
                    > --- In gsx1100g@yahoogroups.com, beerinmyear <no_reply@y...> wrote:
                    > >
                    > > Funny, I thought I saw that story before
                    > >
                    > > --- In gsx1100g@yahoogroups.com, "rjricelny" <rjricelny@y...>
                    wrote:
                    > > >
                    > > > OMG!!! That was the funniest thing I have read in a very long
                    > > time!
                    > > > Thanks- and Gald you survived!
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