I had been banging around the roads of east Texas and as I headed back into Dallas, found myself in very heavy, high-speed traffic on the freeways. Normally, this is not a problem, I commute in these conditions daily, but suddenly I was nearly run down by a cage that decided it needed my lane more than I did. This is not normally a big deal either, as it happens around here often, but usually I can accurately predict which drivers are not paying attention and avoid them before we are even close. This one I missed seeing until it was nearly too late, and as I took evasive action I nearly broadsided another car that I was not even aware was there!
Two bad decisions and insufficient situational awareness…all within seconds. I was behind the power curve. Time to get off the freeway.
I hit the next exit, and as I was in an area I knew pretty well, headed through a few big residential neighborhoods as a new route home. As I turned onto the nearly empty streets I opened the visor on my full-face helmet to help get some air. I figured some slow riding through the quiet surface streets would give me time to relax, think, and regain that “edge” so frequently required when riding.
Little did I suspect…
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 can take care of themselves!
Inches before impact, the squirrel flipped to his feet. He was standing on his hind legs and facing the 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, “Banzai!” or maybe, “Die you gravy-sucking, heathen scum!” as the leap was spectacular and he flew over the 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 twenty 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 maybe 25mph 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 and managed to snag his tail. With all my strength I flung the evil rodent off 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 pissed-off squirrel.
This was an evil 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 square 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 as 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, and only one leather glove roaring at maybe 70mph 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 affect 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 a Scottish attack squirrel of death), and he came around my neck and got IN my full-face helmet with me. As the faceplate closed partway and he began hissing in my face I am quite sure my screaming changed tone and intensity. It seemed to have little affect on the squirrel however.
The rpm’s on The Dragon maxed out (I was not concerned about shifting at the moment) and her front end started to drop.
Now picture the large man on the huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a very ragged torn t-shirt, and wearing one leather glove, roaring at probably 80mph, still on one wheel, with a large puffy squirrel’s tail sticking out his 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 the 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 one leather glove, moving at probably 80mph 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 directional 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 at a busy cross street.
I would have returned to fess up (and to get my glove back). I really would have. Really. But for two things. First, the cops did not seem interested or the slightest bit concerned about me at the moment. One of them was on his back in the front yard of the house they had been parked in front of and was rapidly crabbing backwards away from the patrol car. The other was standing in the street and was training a riot shotgun on the police cruiser.
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 swear I could see the squirrel, standing in the back window of the patrol car among shredded and flying pieces of foam and upholstery, and shaking his little fist at me. I think he was shooting me the finger…
That is one dangerous squirrel. And now he has a patrol car…
I took a deep breath, turned on my turn-signal, made an easy right turn, and sedately left the neighborhood.
As for my easy and slow drive home? Screw it. Faced with a choice of 80mph cars and inattentive drivers, or the evil, demonic, attack squirrel of death…I’ll take my chances with the freeway. Every time.
Daniel Meyer
Same thing happened to me, just last week.
Years ago, a now-deceased brother-in-law of mine used to hunt with hawks. He caught a juvenile Red Tail Hawk and set about training it to hunt for him. He trapped a squirrel in his back yard in New Orleans, tied some Sea Island twine to the hind leg of the squirrel and staked him out on the lawn in his back yard. He went and got the young hawk, took off the hood, and the squirrel and the hawk simultaneously looked at each other.
The squirrel bared his teeth, and charged towards my brother-in-law and the hawk!
In turn, the hawk walked up my brother's-in-law arm to his shoulder in an effort to get away from the squirrel. This went on for about 5 minutes until my brother-in-law gave up in disgust and put the hawk away back into his roost.
I convinced my brother-in-law to release the squirrel since he had indeed earned his freedom.
True story. Happened back in the early 1980's.
Back in the early 1970's a friend was riding his scooter in the North Georgia mountains just for the thrill of cruising the turns. As he was coming down a mountain he got behind a car following a truck loaded with chickens in crates. A chicken popped out of one of the crates and fell to the road. The car following went over the chicken who popped up into the bottom of the car and back down onto the road. It then flew back up and center punched my friend right in the chest. When he got back to school he had blood, chicken guts and feathers ALL OVER him and the bike. He smelled like chicken manure too.
Andy
A friend sent me that on Facebook. I subsequently found it on the internet and it is titled Neighborhood Hazard (or: Why the Cops Won’t Patrol Brice Street) and was written by Daniel Meyer.
OH, I just LOVE squirrels.....yeah right!:-P
[flash width=480 height=360] http://www.youtube.com/v/K16fG1sDagU?version=3&hl=en_US&rel=0 [/flash]
Y'all have a great week!
Scooter story
When I was a young man I worked nights and got off at 9:00 AM. Heading home in the morning sun on my motorsickle was one of life's freebies. The last stretch before the house was a 3/4 mile asphalt lane that was nothing but horse pasture on both sides. There were only two houses that I remember.
Anyway, I'm clipping along without a care and I hear a 'pop'...and at the same time I get punched in the lower left gut. It almost took me off the top of the bike but I managed to keep it up. As I slowed down to pull over I noticed I hurt and had blood on my shirt. My first thought was that somebody had shot me..it really hurt that bad.
I shut the bike off at the side of the road. My tee shirt was torn and bloody and I felt like I had a broke rib. I lifted my shirt up to look at the wound..no wound. It was red as hell, but no broke skin. As I'm wondering where the blood came from I noticed a small blue feather stuck on the side of my headlight. I leaned forward to see my headlamp was broken out and a few more blue feathers...distinctly Blue Jay feathers.
As I was rubber-necking I must have nailed a Blue Jay with my headlamp. I never saw him. What really scared me was how big they are and how bad it hurt just to get a glancing blow. If that bird had been 2 inches higher and a little more centered it would've hit me square in the chest and probably knocked me off the bike. Not a pleasant thing to do at sixty mph.
I Watch for birds to this day. Grasshoppers at sixty are another story entirely...
Scooter story
I think the most important advice my motorcycle instructor ever gave me was, "Ride through the pain".
Scooter story
Ya know how after a rain there are lots of places it can wash gravel and stones across the road...yep, crusin' along on my BSA 650 and don't ya know a car kicked up a beauty and hit me right on my sternum. I still have a big ole lump there!! Been hit by the "ole bull pin schrapenel too", asked if I had ever been shot after an MRI that they couldn't figure out what the dark lump was. It is still in there roamin' around and not botherin' anything, that was in 1996 and they said to leave it alone. Haven't been to a doctor since then, and plan to stay away from squirrels and skunks too!!! My machete arm is acting up, but I figure 62 is good enough for someone in our field and anything more is our Christmas Bonus!!! Merry Christmas everyone!!
Definitely turned a few chuckles here.