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WAS just out for a cruise....

Discussion in 'Jokes and Humour' started by AshR1, Aug 27, 2009.

  1. Not sure if this has been posted... but worth repost imo.


    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 me. I barely had time to brace for the

    Animal lovers, never fear. Squirrels, I discovered, can take care of

    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 am pretty sure the scream was
    squirrel for, "Banzai!" 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

    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
    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.


    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 Valkyrie
    can only have one result.


    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 that I was not paying sufficient
    attention to this very serious battle (maybe he was an evil mutant
    NAZI 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 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 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
    would have.


    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 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.
  2. Only just stopped crying, that is GOLD! :LOL:
  3. Missus just asked me what was wrong, is my heart playing up again... didn't believe my answer...
    Best laugh I've had in ages.. thanks...
  4. Started pmsl by the time I got to the cop car... now I'm in tears! :rofl:
  5. That's classic, and that's another reason to wear ATGATT. Little bugger can't get to you if you're covered in cow hide.