13 Search Results for "squirrel"
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Another Redneck Story
- From: oledad
-
Description:
Billy Bob and Bubba were out in the woods squirrel hunting. When they came up to a barbed wire fence, Billy Bob went to cross it while carrying his gun. As one might expect, the trigger caught on a barb, the gun went off and Billy Bob was badly wounded in the leg. He fell to the the ground and passed out while holding his leg. Now Bubba saw all this take place and he immediately pulled out his cell phone and called 911.
Dispatcher - "911. What is your emergeny?"
Bubba - "My buddy Billy Bob done shot hisself in the leg. I think he's dead!"
Dispatcher - "OK, sir, calm down. First, be sure. Is he really dead."
Bubba - "Just a minute."
BANG!
Bubba - "OK, now what?"
- Blog post
- 4 months ago
- Views: 118
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Squirrel of Death
- From: JustChris
-
Description:
I found this one day and HAVE to share it with you all ,,,,,
Squirrel Of Death while Riding My Motorbike in a quiet Neighborhood
Current mood:
adventurousThe Dangerous Squirrel.
I never dreamed slowly cruising through a residential neighborhood could be so incredibly dangerous!
As I turned onto the nearly empty streets I opened the visor on my full-face helmet to 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 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 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 pissed-off 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 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 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.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. Every time.
And I'll buy myself a new pair of gloves.
CU Again,
Daniel Meyer - Blog post
- 6 months ago
- Views: 248
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They barely made it
- From: uwe999
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Description:
on the way home tonight I almost ran over a couple squirrels in the famous "rabbit corner"
- 6 months ago
- Views: 433
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DSC01137.JPG
- From: riker916
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Description:
- 9 months ago
- Views: 325
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My pet project
- From: riker916
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Description:
I have been riding since I was 17. This Nomad is the 6th bike I have owned. It is the biggest and the most comfortable to ride of the bikes I have owned. Since I got back into riding, I have spent several thousand dollars getting this bike to where I want it to be. I have had a lot of fun finding and purchasing the items I have bought for this bike , and I enjoyed installing what I have bought. I have also purchased two other bikes. A 2002 Suzuki Intruder 1500LC and a 1995 honda Magnum. I bought the Intruder because I thought it was a beautiful bike. The way the previous owner had it fixed up was just right for the bike, and the 95 Magnum was flawless for a 13 year old bike. I have named my Nomad, Moose. I have named my Intruder, Squirrel, And the Magnum is called Mouse.
- 9 months ago
- Views: 257
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Darned fuzzy butts!
- From: MsChevious
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Description:
Ok, now this is the SECOND time in just a few months that I have found a WALNUT wedged into the motor of my bike! The first time, I was wondering if it was a kid sneaking into the yard and being funny, but the second time there was evidence left in the snow! Little squirrel footprints were left when the little fuzzy butt was trying to outrun a cat. I know this because I also saw the cat's footprints. It looks like the squirrel ran across the shallow snow, and the cat fell into a deeper drift, evidenced by sudden imprints of cat belly and all pawprints extended with claws out, and the cat's prints veered back to the front yard. I was amused by this and followed the squirrel's tracks a bit. That's when I saw them go to the cover of my bike. I lifted the cover and saw a walnut laying on the engine. UGH! I inspected tha lines and seat making sure that nothing was chewed and heard the little devil in the tree behind me. As it chewed me out in what I believe was obscene squirrel language, I chucked the walnut into the bushes. I guess the squirrel didn't like that because a few twigs coincidentally fell out of the tree near me and my bike. I considered the idea that I should have chucked the nut right at the rodent, but now I'm wondering what kind of squirrel deterrents I can use to keep the devil away from my bike. In the next month, I am starting construction on an 8 X 12 wood shed. With my bike locked up in there, maybe I will find an engine the way I left it, free of nuts, both the shelled and fuzzy butt varieties.
- Blog post
- 10 months ago
- Views: 551
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TheSquirrl
- Member
- Points:260
- Views: 24
- Since: 11 months ago
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scott02
- Gold - State Rider
- Points:3333
- Views: 1635
- Since: 1 year ago
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Worlds Largest Coon
- From: jsspicer
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Description:
I don’t always do things in the proper order. For example, I figured out what bike I wanted, bought accessories for it, bought the motorcycle, and then took the MSF course. However, I did not ride the bike until after the MSF course was successfully completed.
Not long after completing the course, my wife and I took off for Nebraska for a little vacation. We got a later start than we anticipated and entered Nebraska about dusk. I was eyeing a long line of cars coming toward me on a two lane road to make sure that no one attempted to decide to pass. Out of the corner of my right eye, I noticed a movement coming out of the tall grass at the edge of the road. Quickly, I looked over only to see a raccoon. He was the largest coon I have seen!! He was also the fastest coon I have ever seen in my life. I had enough training from the MSF course and time to “square up” on the handlebars and prepare for the inevitable.
You guessed it – we hit him before he could attack the cars coming toward us! Still preparing for the worst, I was looking for a way to get away from the cars if we went down. When I realized that the little bump had not removed my iron grip from the handle bars, the bike didn’t have a flat tire, and we were not sliding down the highway, I got brave enough to look in the mirror. That burly evil coon barely made it to the center line but no further. Does this story remind you of the Evil Mutant Attack Squirrel story on this site?
Within the next mile my bike began spluttering. I thought, “Oh, no! What has that coon done to my bike?” Instinctively, I turned the fuel cock to reserve, and after about 3 tense seconds, the engine came back to it’s Vance & Hines enhanced life. What a relief! We rode a few miles into town where I stopped for gas. As we pulled our helmets off, a rank smell permeated our olfactory senses. We looked around and found that my right leg was the source of the odor. The coon left a deposit on my pants. He also left some on the front tire. There was also some of it’s hair stuck between the wheel and the tire. We cleaned up as well as we could under the circumstances and made a bee-line for a hotel.
I am reminded of this adventure in which the Lord protected us every time I clean the wheels. After 10,000 miles, the wheel and the tire are still gripping that bandit’s hair! Glad we are safe and the bike still looking good.
- Blog post
- 1 year ago
- Views: 344
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Evil Mutant Attack Squirrel
- From: Rotti
-
Description:
EVIL MUTANT ATTACK SQUIRREL OF DEATH
I never dreamed 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.
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 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 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 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 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 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 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 an into the throttle. A healthy twist
on the throttle of a Harley can only have one result: TORQUE!
This is what the Harley 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 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 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-fac 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... :D
- Blog post
- 1 year ago
- Views: 867
-
riker916
- Member
- Points:405
- Views: 380
- Since: 1 year ago
