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A RIDE THRU INDIAN HEAD ACRES
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"...About this time the squirrel decided that I was not paying sufficient
attention to this very serious battle..."
I
never dreamed slowly cruising on my Valkyrie motorcycle through
a residential neighborhood in Tallahassee could be so incredibly
dangerous! Little did I suspect.
I was on Wahalaw Nene - 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 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 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, "Bonzai!" or maybe, "Die you gravy-sucking,
biscuit eating, heathen scum!"
The leap was nothing short of spectacular. as 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!
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Picture a large man on a huge blue, cream 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
P. O.'ed 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, around and with a thump and an amazing
impact, he landed squarely 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 earthy 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 and the front wheel left
the pavement.
• The squirrel screamed in anger.
• The Valkyrie screamed in ecstasy.
• And I screamed in a 'very' high pitched voice...
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Now picture a large man on a huge blue, cream 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 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 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 is 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 Big Boy maxed out,
( since I was not bothering with shifting at the moment ), so her front
end started to drop.
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Now picture a large man on a huge blue, cream 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 blue, cream 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
launches a live squirrel grenade directly into your police car. I heard
screams. Very high pitched 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
'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 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 and
was waving 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, shooting me the finger ... 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 some Band-Aids.
_______________ ‹› _______________
Life continues in Tallahassee.
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This has been another useless posting from
The EZINE WRITER emagazine!
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Copywight 2014 - Elmer Fudd
All Wights Weserved
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_______________________________
|||||| Bradley ||||||
Grand poobah and bathroom attendant.
mailto: EzineWriterOwner@gmail.com
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KEYWORDS: the ezine writer, humor, memes, funny pics, Valkyrie, neighborhood, squirrel, Bonzai, Mutant, screaming, police, upholstery, Band-Aids, Tallahassee.
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