Biker Dude's Taxi Service...

When Biker Dude got to the office in the morning, he had an idea on how to make a little extra cash. He just needed to make a small investment in some equipment. He logged onto the internet and went to craigs list and composed a want ad.

"Taxi Meter wanted, cheap. Must be lightweight, titanium preferred.
Needs to be small, aerodynamic shape a plus.
Also, must be able to calculate cents per foot.
Any mounting hardware you can throw in would be appreciated.
Big plus if squirrel proof."

He gave a phone number and times he would be available and published the ad.

He figured he'd offer rides to weary, or in a rush, or just plain lazy, animals along the trail; sort of like a bicycle taxi. He would do all the pedaling; all the hard work of pushing up hills and against the wind, and the animals could just sit back and enjoy the ride.

For a small fee of course.

He got the idea after what happened that morning on the way to work.



It was between Saint Charles and Geneva. South of Island Park, where, after a 100 yards of open trail that used to skirt the outer perimeter of a retention pond, the trail dipped into thick forest preserve.

Ahead, just across a wooden footbridge, by the side of the trail, a squirrel crouched.

Now Biker Dude has seen many squirrels before. He's seen all manner of animals during is travels. Each one has its own set of reactions and behaviors when a rider approaches.

His intuition told him that this squirrel, as innocent and inconspicuous as it seemed at the time, had a plan.

It was almost like whenever he saw a chipmunk. Biker Dude just knew what it was going to do. Chipmunks were strange little critters. At least Biker Dude thought so. They'd crouch by the sides of the trail and wait. They would pretend to forage for nuts and seeds. Then, at the last second, when Biker Dude and his bike was upon them, right when the risk of being killed was the greatest, they would dart under the bike to the other side of the trail; Almost like they played a game of chicken with the bike wheels.

From the second he saw it, Biker Dude had a good hunch that this squirrel was going to do the same thing.

He noticed that this little dude had a gleam in his eye. He was no ordinary squirrel. He perched there like an Olympic sprinter in starting blocks before a 100 meter dash.

But he didn't dart under the bike tires. No. Not this one. This guy had to outdo every squirrel, or chipmunk, that came before.

When Biker Dude was ten feet away, the squirrel started running in the same direction as Biker Dude; parallel to him at the edge of the grass. Like he was getting up speed to take the baton from another guy in a relay race.

Right when Biker Dude pulled alongside, the squirrel took a flying leap and grabbed on to Biker Dude's right leg. He wrapped his arms around it. Biker Dude stopped pedaling and looked down.
He thought, "What the...?" The squirrel just looked up at him. Then looked ahead down the trail. His ears twitched in the wind and his fur blew back. He blinked his eyes.

After about thirty feet, when it had apparently gone far enough, or else realized the ride wasn't as much fun as he thought it would be, the squirrel jumped off. He ran off into the weeds and bushes on the side of the trail.

Biker Dude shook his head and thought, "Now I've seen it all. Either that or I've finally gone crazy."

He rode on. Feeling a little used. Not even a thank you. No thumbs up. No 'See you tomorrow...'

And no tip.

He thought, "Unless he pays by the foot, I'm not giving that guy a ride anymore."