This is one of the funniest stories I have read. Another newsgroup.


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
t - 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 ****ed-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.

Funny post Bill. Thanks!

"Bill McKee" wrote in message
k.net...
This is one of the funniest stories I have read. Another newsgroup.


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
t - 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
****ed-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.

*JimH* wrote:
Funny post Bill. Thanks!


WHAT???? How come you are chastising other people for off topic posts,
but when it's one of your circle jerk buddies, it's just peachy???

wrote in message
oups.com...


*JimH* wrote:
Funny post Bill. Thanks!


WHAT???? How come you are chastising other people for off topic posts,
but when it's one of your circle jerk buddies, it's just peachy???


Some people here ride motercycles. Even a Moped probably requires a
motorcyle endorsement to the drivers license. If motorcycles require an
endorsement in your state.

On Wed, 20 Jul 2005 04:58:29 GMT, "Bill McKee"
wrote:

This is one of the funniest stories I have read. Another newsgroup.


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
t - 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 ****ed-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.






Thanks Bill! I'll damn sure keep my eyes open for squirrels foaming at the mouth
and giving me the finger!

--
John H.
On the 'PocoLoco' out of Deale, MD

John H. wrote:
On Wed, 20 Jul 2005 04:58:29 GMT, "Bill McKee"
wrote:

This is one of the funniest stories I have read. Another newsgroup.


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
t - 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 ****ed-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.






Thanks Bill! I'll damn sure keep my eyes open for squirrels foaming at the mouth
and giving me the finger!

I will post this as Chuck won't:


Now see there? All the guys who are convinced you aren't even the
tiniest bit interested in boating have to be at least partially wrong.
You are becoming an expert troller. Do you have any original thoughts
you'd care to share, or have you been instructed to repost the
propaganda?

Kevin. You are looking real idiotic today.

wrote in message
oups.com...


John H. wrote:
On Wed, 20 Jul 2005 04:58:29 GMT, "Bill McKee"

wrote:

This is one of the funniest stories I have read. Another newsgroup.


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
t - 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
****ed-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.






Thanks Bill! I'll damn sure keep my eyes open for squirrels foaming at
the mouth
and giving me the finger!

I will post this as Chuck won't:


Now see there? All the guys who are convinced you aren't even the
tiniest bit interested in boating have to be at least partially wrong.
You are becoming an expert troller. Do you have any original thoughts
you'd care to share, or have you been instructed to repost the
propaganda?

Today?


"Bill McKee" wrote in message
nk.net...
Kevin. You are looking real idiotic today.

wrote in message
oups.com...


John H. wrote:
On Wed, 20 Jul 2005 04:58:29 GMT, "Bill McKee"

wrote:

This is one of the funniest stories I have read. Another newsgroup.


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
t - 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
****ed-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.






Thanks Bill! I'll damn sure keep my eyes open for squirrels foaming at
the mouth
and giving me the finger!

I will post this as Chuck won't:


Now see there? All the guys who are convinced you aren't even the
tiniest bit interested in boating have to be at least partially wrong.
You are becoming an expert troller. Do you have any original thoughts
you'd care to share, or have you been instructed to repost the
propaganda?