The Squirrel of Death

I never dreamed that slowly cursing on my motorcycle through a residential neighborhood could be so incredibly dangerous! Little did I suspect.....

I was on Bryce Street, a very nice neighborhood with perfect lawns and nice slow traffic. As I passed an oncoming car, a brown furry missile shot out from under it and tumbled to a stop right in front of me!

It was a Squirrel! It must have been trying to run across the street when it encountered the car. I was really not going very fast, maybe twenty, 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 real 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 the impact, the squirrel flipped to his feet. He was standing on his hind-legs and facing my on-coming Harley 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 didn't know better, I would have sworn he brought twenty of his little screaming buddies along for the attack! Snarling, hissing, and tearing at my clothes, he was worked into a frenzy of activity! As I was dressed only in a light T-shirt, summer riding gloves and jeans, this furry little tornado was doing some real damage to me.

Picture this:
A rather large man on a huge black and chrome motorcycle cruiser, dressed only in jeans, a T-shirt and leather gloves, puttering at maybe 20 or 25 mph down a nice quiet residential street, in the fight of his life with a demented squirrel! And Losing!

I grabbed for him with my left hand and, 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 my bike, almost running into the right side of the curb as I recoiled from the throw!

That should have done it. The matter should have ended right then and there. It really should have. The squirrel should have sailed into one of the pristine yards that covered the neighborhood and gone about his own 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 !

Somehow, he caught my gloved finger with one of his little hands' and with the force of the throw swung around and landed squarely on my back with a resounding 'Thump' and resumed his relentless attack! He also managed to take my left glove with him! My 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 my handlebars, and my jerking back, unfortunately put a strong twist through my right hand into the throttle. A healthy twist on the throttle of a 1200 Harley can have only one result: Massive Torque! This is what the Harley is made for, and she is very good at it. The engine Roared and the front wheel left the pavement!

The Squirrel Screamed in Anger! The Harley 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 squirrel-torn T-shirt, wearing only one leather glove, roaring at maybe 50mph and rapidly accelerating down a nice, quiet residential street on one wheel with a demonic attack squirrel of death on his back! The man and squirrel both screaming bloody murder and rapidly accelerating!

I was forced to put my other hand back on the handlebars and try to get control of my bike.

This was leaving the mutant squirrel to his own devices, but I really didn't 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 simply overloaded! I did manage to mash-down on the rear brake, but it had little effect on the huge Harley... too much power!

About this time, the squirrel decided I was not paying enough attention to this horrific battle and swung around my neck and got into 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 RPM's on my bike maxed out (since I was not bothering to shift gears at the moment), so her front wheel started to drop down to the pavement.

Now:
Picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed only in jeans and a raggedly-squirrel-torn T-shirt, wearing only one leather glove, roaring down a quiet street 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 getting a little hoarse.

Finally... I got the upper hand! I managed to grab his tail again and pulled him out of my helmet and slung him to the left as hard as I could. This time it worked!... sort of...

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 only in jeans and a torn T-shirt flapping in the breeze, wearing only one leather glove moving at probably 70 mph on one wheel screaming bloody murder roars by and, with all of his strength, throws a live squirrel-grenade directly into your open window of your police car!

I heard the Screams! They weren't Mine!

I managed to get my bike under control and dropped the front wheel finally to the ground. I then used maximum braking and skidded to a stop in a cloud of burnt tire smoke at the stop sign of a busy intersection.

I would have returned to 'fess up' (and get my glove back), I really would have... really...

Except for two things:

First, the cops didn't seem the least bit 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 middle of the street aiming a riot shotgun at his own police car!

So... the cop's were not interested in me, they often insist on "Letting the Professionals Handle it" anyway.
That was one thing.

The other?
Well... I could clearly see shredded and flying pieces of foam and auto upholstery coming from the back seat of the patrol car. 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 calmly left the neighborhood. I decided it was best to just buy myself a new pair of gloves... and a whole bunch of Band-Aids...