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
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
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 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
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 side of
the bike, almost running into the right curb as I recoiled from
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 pi$$ed-off
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 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 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
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
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
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
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
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
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.
...and I'll buy myself a new pair of gloves.
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