Just got this in an Email

> Biker vs Squirrel
>
>
> 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 on coming 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 it 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 was 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! Twisted Evil.
>
> Somehow he caught my gloved finger with one of his little hands and,
> with the force of my throw, swung around and with a resounding thump and
> an amazing impact, 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 have only
> 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 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 face plate 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 into your police car.
>
> I heard screams.
> This time 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 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 gun 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.

 

Now that's funny.

 

The li'l bastuds, are filtratin', EVRYWARE !!!!

 

Mutant squirrels - sheesh!

 

Thanks. I needed that.

 

I'd love to see something like that really happen but with my luck I'd be that poor ba$tard going down the road loosing the battle of my life to a squirrel.

 

A Valkyrie?

 

He could have changed it to Harley but no one would believe the 80MPH on one wheel part.

 

True.

 

That was a good one thanks