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Old 02-08-2007, 10:30 AM   #1
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Crazed squirrel attacks man on motorcycle

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 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

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 Big Dog 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

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 Big Dog can only have one


This is what the Big Dog 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

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 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

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 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 murder roars by, and with all his
strength throw! was 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

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 awhole lot of
Ok, your ****ing sig pic scares the bejeezus outta me!
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Old 02-08-2007, 11:37 AM   #2
Greenway Smokey
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" resumed his rather antisocial and extremely distracting
If dwells inside us, like some people say, I sure hope he likes enchiladas, because that's what he's getting!
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Old 02-08-2007, 11:40 AM   #3
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lots of em

this is older than Al Gores internet
[COLOR="Lime"][B]Highway HorrorS c.c.[/B][/COLOR]

I respect scootertrash because well... He's like the Jesus of building and fixing .
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Old 02-08-2007, 11:44 AM   #4
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maybe it was one of your mother's squirrels
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