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OT: Squirrel Grenade?

I found this on a binary WW group and am still in tears. Yes, rest assured, it does have metal content. I wish the OP had known the originator so I could attribute this fine work to him. It's GREAT!

--snip--

I had been banging around the roads of east Texas on my motorcycle 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.. 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.

--snip--

-- Friends Don't Let Friends Eat Turkey and Drive --

Reply to
Larry Jaques
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And another thing, don't wreck a bike while wearing a down jacket. Bystanders will be laughing too hard to assist you. Wound debridement where the wound is packed with feathers keeps the suture room staff too cracked up to have steady hands. You would also be amazed at how far the sideways bike can continue down the road with it's footpeg stuck in a trolly track and the handlebar bent enough to open the throttles.

Reply to
bamboo

One time about fifteen years ago, between Boulder City, Nevada, and Hoover Dam, a motorcyclist was seriously injured when a desert bighorn sheep took exception to him being on the road, and charged head on into his motorcycle. It was a bullseye (or is that a ramseye?). The ram was dead at the scene.

Steve

Reply to
SteveB

Ouch! I got some road rash through a corduroy jacket (just one bump of the arm to stay on top of the bike) on my one downed bike ride on the asphalt. I rode the rear tire into the rear tire of the Cadillac and my helmeted (thankfully) head hit the rear door hard enough to shatter the window. I walked away and had no hospital time. I had a Kawasaki Street 90 at age 15-1/2 with my learner's permit. The lady didn't see me (or my headlight) and pulled out in front of me from a stop signed intersection. Luckily, I saw her, but the light drizzly rain kept me from stopping in the non-prone position. The layers of skin in that pear-shaped rash took forever to scab over and heal, or at least it felt that way.

-- Friends Don't Let Friends Eat Turkey and Drive --

Reply to
Larry Jaques

Isn't it amazing how much good a helmet will do? I had a guy hit me head on and I never lost consciousness. I figured I must have avoided hitting my head. Several months later I actually looked at my helmet. I was pretty obvious that it had hit something pretty hard. And one of the shield snaps was half worn off. I only traveled from the front of the truck to the windshield and then rolled off the truck onto the ground. So that snap must have been worn off on the truck. And no, I didn't walk away. :) ERS

Reply to
Eric R Snow

Reply to
machineman

That's an "Ouch!", I reckon.

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Reply to
Larry Jaques

I'd have been really pissed if he'd done that to my rig. ;)

That kind of thing really blows me away. I'd absolutely hate to run down animal (or a person) with my vehicle, but I sure as hell wouldn't risk my own life, and the lives of others in my car, to miss one. Stopping on a straightaway is one thing, but swerving off the road and into a tree/building/ditch is just plain stupidity, and I see that all the time in the paper. (Ditto when I worked for a body shop.) I guess the word "inattention" says it all. Pay attention or suffer BIG!

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Reply to
Larry Jaques

My first thought, too, once I cleared up the tears and convulsions of laughter.

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Reply to
Larry Jaques

I used to ride with the Cardiff Ajax cycling club (bicycles) in Wales when I was in graduate school. Wales has a LOT of sheep. Ever once in a while someone has a collision with a sheep during a race, but one year most of the peloton in our annual club race was taken out when a sheep wandered out into the road just as the main bunch arrived. Chaos reigned: broken and bent wheels everywhere, not to mention extensive road rash, but the sheep just ambled calmly away.

Reply to
Bob Chilcoat

and what would have happened if the glance out of the corner of his eye was really a small kid? the reaction occurs faster than comprehension, in a lot of cases.

Reply to
Charles Spitzer

I saw someone slam on the brakes to avoid a small animal only to have someone slam into the back of them. Don't know if anybody was hurt, but it would have been a pretty lousy trade in my opinion.

Reply to
Chuck Sherwood

Years ago on a rural 2-lane, a heavily loaded Ford Ranger towing a trailer pulled onto the road behind me. He was WAY overloaded, apparently moving his household. It wasn't long before he got that rig up to speed, and was following me more closely than I like. This was 55 mph days, and I was running 60 or so. Just then a dog stepped out into the road in my lane, and just stopped and looked at me with his tongue hanging out. I instinctively got on the binders quickly while checking my options (shoulder, other lane, kill dog) while figuring out what the dog was going to do. A glance in my rear-view mirror returned a sight I will never forget: That Ranger driver was trying Real Hard to shut that overloaded rig down, basically right on my tailgate. His face was contorted into the closest thing I've ever seen to abject terror - mouth and eyes like 3 circles. His entire body was off the seat as he tried to push the brake pedal through the firewall, and he looked like he was going to rip the steering wheel right off. He saw himself facing, if not certain death, surely the ruin of all his worldly possessions. Fortunately I was still rolling a bit when the dog decided to yield right of way, so I got back on the gas and gave the guy some room. A few miles more and I was still laughing uncontrollably at that mental image burned into my psyche when the guy pulled alongside and motioned for me to stop, presumably so he could whip my ass for brake-checking him. He probably never saw the dog. As I was still laughing, tears rolling down my cheeks, I didn't figure I could explain the situation to his satisfaction, so I waved (all fingers present) sped off and left him cursing and gesturing.

Reply to
Rex B

Unless it's a lawyer or a politician and it's not your fault. ;-)

Ted

Reply to
Ted Edwards

Obviously following too close. I hope it cost him/her big time. I _really_ hate tailgaters!

Ted

Reply to
Ted Edwards

Reread my post. You shouldn't need to ask that.

BTW, I hope that guy got an anti-skid brake upgrade on that truck.

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Reply to
Larry Jaques

I've seen that look, exactly once. Idiot in a 4WD passed everyone during a semi-blizzard, going into a section of the interstate known for black ice. Few miles up the road, in the expected location, he was spinning around at a leisurely pace, and I got to see that look each time he swund around. Ended up in the ditch, right-side up, without hitting anything hard. I decided not to stop & help.

...but the look was, as you say, priceless.

Reply to
Dave Hinz

"Dave Hinz" wrote

I saw that same look in Houston on the south loop. It was raining one of those Houston rains. The loop was about six lanes wide, and me and a truck were the only cars around. On the downside of one of those overpasses, he's two lanes besides me. He starts a 360, and never left his lane. Don't know if he hit the gas or a slick spot or what.

He ended up going in the same direction, never leaving the lane.

One of the wildest things I have seen. My buddy and I looked at each other, and said at the same time, "Did you see that?"

Steve

Reply to
SteveB

This thread has wandered off into highway accidents, but the angry squirrel has reminded of a story from my youth.

When I was in highschool, me, Russ Mullins,(a buddy of mine) and his father would drive downstate to go squirrel hunting.

Now, Old Man Mullins was the hunters hunter. He was the best shot I have ever known with a rifle, shotgun or bow. (his son edged him out slightly with a sidearm)

In the woods, Old Man Mullins was like a bobcat, he could run through the thickest brush at a full break and never make a sound. He could find game in trees, when you could barely see the tree.

He always hunted squirrels with his Remington target 22 while Russ and I opted for a 20ga pump.

Well the sun was going down that day and we all met up at cricket pump at the edge of the field, like we planned, and Old Man Mullins starts bragging about this head shot he made on a squirrel at over a hunded yards. It was a perfect shot, the squirrel just fell out of the tree with a tiny wound, and, best of all, "none of them darn pellets to pick out of the squirrel gravy".

We were walking back to camp, when he starts jumping around. It was like a cartoon, like Bugs Bunny had just drunk the "Jeckyl/Hyde" potion.

Suddenly he turns around, still jerking, hands Russ his rifle, and rips off his back pack He throws it to the ground and starts stomping on it. Just when he seemed to settle down enough that we thought we could ask him what was going on, he pulls his knife from the sheath and starts stabbing the backpack, like it was Janet Leigh and he was Norman Bates.

Apparently, that perfect head shot didn't kill the squirrel, but had grazed his skull, knocking him out cold.

When the squirrel came to, he had a nasty headache and was really pissed off about being stuffed into a rucksack with the corpses of his compadres. I'm sure that clawing his way out through Old Man Mullins' back seemed like a good idea at the time.

Paul K. Dickman

Reply to
pkdickman

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