The Hillbilly Travelogue

The Demonic Squirrel Riding Story

I'm abandoning the blog for awhile, but I'll leave you with this fun story to remember me by.

The following is an excerpt from a book called Life is a Road, Get on it and Ride by Daniel Meyer.

Neighborhood Hazard
(or: Why the Cops Won’t Patrol Brice Street)

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 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 ticked-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.

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? 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.

Christmas Day 1776

On the evening of December 25, 1776, George Washington, in a bold military move, led a portion of the Continenal Army across the Delaware River and marched on Trenton, New Jersey.  When they reached Trenton, they launched a surprise attack and defeated the King's Hessian troops quartered there.  It was the first victory for General Washington in what had otherwise been a pretty dismal year.  Many historians mark this victory as point where things started to turn around for General Washington and his troops.  Just goes to show - sometimes all you need is one good day to turn everything around!

Hope you're having a great Christmas / New Year!

Dumb Things Make Me Laugh - Example #2,158

I saw this on a bumper sticker on the way to work this morning:

Come to the dark side.....we have cookies

Remember in Star Wars where Darth Vader was trying to get Luke to join him on the dark side by telling him how powerful he would be and how inevitable it was?  Maybe Darth should have said,"Luke [hoo-haw (this is Darth Vader's breathing, in case you were wondering)], join me on the dark side [hoo-haw].  We have cookies [hoo-haw]."

It could work the other way, too.  Yoda could have said, "Go not to the dark side, Luke.  Tell you, they will, that cookies they have, but cookies they have not."

And, yes, I should be paying more attention to the road and not making up alternate plot lines for movies and giggling to myself, but that's really beside the point when cookies are involved, don't you think.

70th Anniversary of the Attack on Pearl Harbor

Today is the 70th anniversary of "a day which will live in infamy."

Post-Thanksgiving, Pre-Christmas Update

We managed to get the boys home for Thanksgiving, although it took us several hours to get over the pass.  We had a nice, quiet Thanksgiving and then the boys headed back to Ellensburg for one more week of class and finals week.  I'm going over to pick them up on Friday night.  They'll be home until after the New Year.  Yea!!!

I didn't cook a whole turkey this year.  I'm the only one who likes turkey and I only like white meat, so I just bought a turkey breast.  It was cost about half as much as a whole turkey, was easy to brine, cooked up in about 2 hours, made lots of delicious drippings for gravy, and was super-easy to carve.  I don't think I'll ever cook a whole bird again.

Todd and I finished most of the Christmas shopping last weekend.  Best of all, we got most of it done while in our pajamas (I don't know how people managed before internet shopping.).  Just need to decorate the house (which we're waiting to do until the boys are here) and get some stocking stuffers.

We do have one major change to our Christmas routine.  We finally sucumbed to the dark side and bought an artifical Christmas tree.  We always said we would never have an articifical tree, but our experience last year with an expensive, nasty, dry tree made our minds up for us on this issue.  We're looking at ways to get the smell of a Christmas tree in the house without actually having a tree in the house.  Maybe we can set an open bottle of Pine Sol under the tree?  (I'm joking.  The cats would have that knocked over in no time flat.  Austen would probably drink it.)

Happy Thanksgiving

We were supposed to go get the boys at school this afternoon, but Snoqualmie Pass is closed.  We may need to go through White Pass and Yakima tomorrow to get them.  Either way, it's that time of the year, and we're gearing up for the holidays.

Have a happy Thanksgiving!

The US Marine Corps is 236 Today

Some people spend an entire lifetime wondering if they made a difference in the world. The Marines don't have that problem.           

              Ronald Reagan

Happy Birthday, Marines, and thank you.

Happy Halloween

I get scared really easily, and yet I love ghost stories.  Go figure.  Here are a couple of fun ones.

My grandfather had a home built back in WWII where he and grandmother lived until their individual deaths. In her old age, living alone, my grandmother "Drucilla", was notorious for setting the thermostat on 80.

After she died, her house was sold and the single mother who bought it began having problems. She would come home time after time to a home that was "at least 80 degrees" and several times higher than that. Even if she had left with the A/C on, she would come home to find the furnace running and the whole house blazing hot. She would immediately check the thermostat and find it had been turned up....but nobody was in the house. First she changed the locks on the doors to make sure nobody else could be getting in. The issue continued. She bought a locking cover for the thermostat and it still happened several times after that while she was gone, even though she had the only key with her. On several occasions she felt like there was someone else in the room but was always alone at the time. Her infant was certainly too young to have set the temp.

Finally, feeling like a total flake, she spoke to the empty room, calling my grandmother by name she said "Drucilla....I have to live here too and I have to pay the heating bills now so you need to let me have control of this furnace!"

After that, coincidence or not, she never had problems with the thermostat again. It was set and remained at 71 degrees, summer heat or winter cold and has remained so for the last 15 years.

 

I once lived in an old pre-Civil War era house. ....It was cool. The rent was cheap and it had lots of extra rooms, extra space.

There was one room that was full of junk left by previous occupants. We didn't think anything about it at the time, but all the junk was piled up in the far corner of the room.....in a sort of junk mountain.

We cleaned all the old junk out and didn't use that room for a while. Then, we started storing boxes of our own stuff in there.....and some odd chairs.

When we went to get something in that room, we found that all of our stuff had been piled up on top of itself in the far corner.....just like the old previous junk had been.

We moved it all back. Came back later....it was back in the corner.

This went on for the entire time we lived there. Whatever was left in that room would end up piled on top of the other stuff, in that far corner. ....We never heard a sound. .....And we could never catch it happening. No matter how much we tried to catch it in the act.

 

My fiancee and I moved into our current residence in April. Spacious, private, it's right up our alley at least until we can get an apartment. Soon after moving in I began to notice some strange things. In the living room, I would turn off the light and TV when going to bed. An hour later, they would be back on. Footsteps around 3am. Cold spots during the heat of summer. Odd things, but I tried not to give them much thought.

About a month in, my far better half started complaining she was being "woken up" by something in the night that would poke her arm. I joked it was probably me, until one night I couldn't sleep and found myself watching TV in the living room. Erinn started tossing and turning, then came into the room telling me she didn't appreciate me trying to wake her up. I told her I would turn the TV down, but she insisted "you know what I mean, poking me like that. Don't act like you've been in here the whole time."

I have spent some free time in the past year serving as a skeptic for a local paranormal group. I came to their investigations with the approach that everything has a rational explanation, and barring a few odds and ends, most of the "activity" being reported did. So now, I had the awkward situation of having this happen in my own house.

Curious, we decided to run the "flashlight test" in the bedroom. For those unfamiliar, you remove the front part of a flashlight away from the battery just enough that a "ghost" can still make the connection and turn the bulb on, but you can't turn it on yourself by bumping or blowing on it. Our question "is there someone here who wants us to know they are" was answered by both the flashlight on the floor, and our bedroom lighting, which simultaneously brightened then dimmed. Testing my initial reaction that it was just coincidence, we asked again, and again the flashlight and our room lighting brightened and dimmed.

Erinn asked more questions, and per the tedious yes/no responses we came to find out it was simply trying to get our attention, to acknowledge it was here in our house. The poking, the footsteps, and even audible name calling were all because of that. We eventually found out from our landlord that the previous owner had fallen in the kitchen downstairs and died from her injuries shortly thereafter, so perhaps that is who has been wandering in our room.

From time to time we hear the noises, but it has quieted down a lot since we had "talked" with whatever or whoever it is. We like the place too much to leave and it doesn't seem to mind us now that we have settled in.

Have a happy and safe Halloween!

Occupy Wall Street or "Some Animals Are More Equal Than Others"**

Warning, Mara - this is a long post!  :)

I've kept fairly quiet regarding my thoughts on Occupy Wall Street (OWS) - mainly because life is short and I've got better things to do.  However, I read this today and it made me laugh out loud.  Seriously, there may have been an actual snort involved.

Occupy Wall Street Kitchen Staff Protesting Fixing Food For Freeloaders

To summarize: the people at OWS, who are protesting the GREEDY 1% (otherwise known as those of us who are actually doing something productive (i.e., NOT sitting around in our own filth banging on drums)), are angry that the homeless and recently released convicts are infiltrating their protest in order to get free food.

Let me repeat that - the OWS protesters don't want to spend their time and energy supplying food to people who have not contributed and/or are not part of their organization.

According to their own world-view, doesn't that make the OWS protesters, ummmm, what's the word .... GREEDY?  I mean they have food and the homeless convicts need food.  What's the problem?  They should be happy to share what they have, shouldn't they? 

So, they had to go out and get the donations or buy the food or whatever and then prepare the food.  That surely doesn't mean that they have the right to selfishly enjoy the food and/or distribute said food as they see fit, does it?  Isn't away from capitalism and toward socialism where these protesters want the country to go?  You know, "from each according to his ability, to each according to his need."

Or does that just apply to other people, not the precious little snowflakes at OWS?

The irony is delicious. 

**from Animal Farm by George Orwell.  A book that OWS protesters should consider reading right after they finish Atlas Shrugged.

A Deer Hunting Season Public Service Message

I admit it.  I'm a city girl.  Never been hunting.  My views on deer were developed through the lens of Walt Disney movies.  Apparently, I was sadly misinformed.

From Ric's Rulez - Roping a Deer

I had this idea that I could rope a deer, put it in a stall, feed it up on corn for a couple of weeks, then kill it and eat it.. the first step in this adventure was getting a deer. I figured that, since they congregate at my cattle feeder and do not seem to have much fear of me when we are there (a bold one will sometimes come right up and sniff at the bags of feed while I am in the back of the truck not 4 feet away), it should not be difficult to rope one, get up to it and toss a bag over its head (to calm it down) then hog tie it and transport it home.

I filled the cattle feeder then hid down at the end with my rope. The cattle, having seen the roping thing before, stayed well back. They were not having any of it. After about 20 minutes, my deer showed up– 3 of them. I picked out a likely looking one, stepped out from the end of the feeder, and threw my rope. The deer just stood there and stared at me. I wrapped the rope around my waist and twisted the end so I would have a good hold.

The deer still just stood and stared at me, but you could tell it was mildly concerned about the whole rope situation. I took a step towards it, it took a step away. I put a little tension on the rope .., and then received an education. The first thing that I learned is that, while a deer may just stand there looking at you funny while you rope it, they are spurred to action when you start pulling on that rope.

That deer EXPLODED. The second thing I learned is that pound for pound, a deer is a LOT stronger than a cow or a colt. A cow or a colt in that weight range I could fight down with a rope and with some dignity. A deer– no chance.

That thing ran and bucked and twisted and pulled. There was no controlling it and certainly no getting close to it. As it jerked me off my feet and started dragging me across the ground, it occurred to me that having a deer on a rope was not nearly as good an idea as I had originally imagined. The only upside is that they do not have as much stamina as many other animals.

A brief 10 minutes later, it was tired and not nearly as quick to jerk me off my feet and drag me when I managed to get up. It took me a few minutes to realize this, since I was mostly blinded by the blood flowing out of the big gash in my head. At that point, I had lost my taste for corn-fed venison. I just wanted to get that devil creature off the end of that rope.

I figured if I just let it go with the rope hanging around its neck, it would likely die slow and painfully somewhere. At the time, there was no love at all between me and that deer. At that moment, I hated the thing, and I would venture a guess that the feeling was mutual.

Despite the gash in my head and the several large knots where I had cleverly arrested the deer’s momentum by bracing my head against various large rocks as it dragged me across the ground, I could still think clearly enough to recognize that there was a small chance that I shared some tiny amount of responsibility for the situation we were in. I didn’t want the deer to have to suffer a slow death, so I managed to get it lined back up in between my truck and the feeder – a little trap I had set before hand..kind of like a squeeze chute. I got it to back in there and I started moving up so I could get my rope back.

Did you know that deer bite?

They do! I never in a million years would have thought that a deer would bite somebody, so I was very surprised when … I reached up there to grab that rope and the deer grabbed hold of my wrist. Now, when a deer bites you, it is not like being bit by a horse where they just bite you and then let go. A deer bites you and shakes its head–almost like a pit bull. They bite HARD and it hurts.

The proper thing to do when a deer bites you is probably to freeze and draw back slowly. I tried screaming and shaking instead. My method was ineffective.

It seems like the deer was biting and shaking for several minutes, but it was likely only several seconds. I, being smarter than a deer (though you may be questioning that claim by now), tricked it. While I kept it busy tearing the tendons out of my right arm, I reached up with my left hand and pulled that rope loose.

That was when I got my final lesson in deer behavior for the day. Deer will strike at you with their front feet. They rear right up on their back feet and strike right about head and shoulder level, and their hooves are surprisingly sharp. I learned a long time ago that, when an animal –like a horse –strikes at you with their hooves and you can’t get away easily, the best thing to do is try to make a loud noise and make an aggressive move towards the animal. This will usually cause them to back down a bit so you can escape.

This was not a horse. This was a deer, so obviously, such trickery would not work. In the course of a millisecond, I devised a different strategy. I screamed like a woman and tried to turn and run. The reason I had always been told NOT to try to turn and run from a horse that paws at you is that there is a good chance that it will hit you in the back of the head. Deer may not be so different from horses after all, besides being twice as strong and 3 times as evil, because the second I turned to run, it hit me right in the back of the head and knocked me down.

Now, when a deer paws at you and knocks you down, it does not immediately leave. I suspect it does not recognize that the danger has passed. What they do instead is paw your back and jump up and down on you while you are laying there crying like a little girl and covering your head.

I finally managed to crawl under the truck and the deer went away. So now I know why when people go deer hunting they bring a rifle with a scope to sort of even the odds. All these events are true so help me God…

All you hunters be careful out there.