Hahah, fik næsten tårer i øjnene. Tak for historien =)
Mikkel Hansen » CBR 600 F4 »
http://www.dfmc.dk/default.asp?id=444
"DavieB" <david.broberg@wilby.dk> skrev i en meddelelse
news:3fe56eb4$0$29323$edfadb0f@dread15.news.tele.dk...
>
>
> Jeg fandt denne historie på Yahoos' Honda VF gruppe hjemside, og
> syntes den er ret morsomt.
> mVFh, David
> '84 Honda VF750F-E
>
>
> 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, foundmyself 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 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 squirrelon 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 handlebarsand 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 onewheel, 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.
> CUAgain,
> Daniel Meyer
>
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