[GeoStL] Re: Thanks for suggestions

  • From: Jean Squires <Iris@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx>
  • To: geocaching@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
  • Date: Sun, 15 Feb 2004 20:17:59 -0800 (PST)

-
it wasn't me.  A friend of mine sent it to me today.  She and squirrels go way 
back.


--- Bernie <happykraut@xxxxxxxxxxx> wrote:
-
  Jean, quite a story. Being a biker myself (V65 Magna) I can appreciate 
what you went through. Don't tell that story to the PETA people. They 
will side with the squirrel.  Bernie

Jean Squires wrote:

>-
>Thanks for all the suggestions on where to find a stick.  You guys are too 
>funny.  In return I will leave you with this story.
>
>
>"The Squirrel Grenade by T-Duck 
>
>I never dreamed slowly cruising through a residential neighborhood 
>could be 
>so incredibly dangerous! Studies have shown that motorcycling requires 
>more 
>decisions per second, and more sheer data processing than nearly any 
>other 
>common activity or sport. The reactions and accurate decision making 
>abilities needed have been likened to the reactions of fighter pilots! 
>The 
>consequences of bad decisions or poor situational awareness 
>are pretty much the same for both groups too. 
>
>Occasionally, as a rider I have caught myself starting to make bad or 
>late 
>decisions while riding. In flight training, my instructors called this 
>being "behind the power curve". It is a mark of experience that when 
>this begins to happen, the rider recognizes the situation, and more 
>importantly, does something about it. A short break, a meal, or even a 
>gas 
>stop can set things right again as it gives the brain a chance to catch 
>up. 
>
>Good, accurate, and timely decisions are essential when riding a 
>motorcycle.at least if you want to remain among the living. In short, 
>the 
>brain needs to keep up with the machine. 
>
>I had been banging around the roads of east Texas 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. I was behind the power curve. 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 ****!" 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 very annoyed 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 80 mph, 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. 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 80 mph cars and inattentive drivers, 
>or 
>the evil, demonic, attack squirrel of death...I'll take my chances with 
>the 
>freeway. Every time. And I'll buy myself a new pair of gloves. 
>
>
>
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