Simple humor

So I'm out on the last stages of the test-and-tune week, cruising with a bunch of two-cylinder air-cooled guys and having a blast when my buddy Joe calls me. Next chance I get, I pull over and call him back. He wants to enjoy the nice weather from the right seat, since he had been drenched the only other time he'd ridden in the car.
Not a cloud in the sky. "No problem, Joe, I'll come and pick you up. These chopper guys I'm cruising with are pretty cool; it's a really nice day."
These bikes are in the 100+ cubic-inch engine range, and they like to drive fast. I made an arrangement to catch up with them at a rally-point, and went to get Joe. I'm a little behind schedule (any excuse, right?), so I hop on the throttle and fly low toward Pasadena, MD.
We're on a nice, straight stretch of road, so I use up most of the RPMs the chip in the rev limiter will let me have, and I'm touching double the legal limit when, all of a sudden, WHACK!
It sounded like a gunshot. There's a splatter all over the passenger's side of the little windscreen that looks like the back seat of the car in Pulp Fiction -- except it's white, not red.
I clicked off the possibilities. No change in stability. Check. Brake fluid reservior is on my side, not his. Wrong color anyway. Check. Shocks are gas-filled and the ride's smooth. Check. Too early for junebugs. ...
I looked to my right as I slowed down a bit. Joe's usually bald. He shaves his mellon every morning, and he's got that Orange County Choppers moustache thing going on under his bifocals. His 'stache is usually a bit salt-and-pepper, and he's got a decent suntan, ordinarily.
Not anymore. Apparently, I hit some in-flight, decending seagull poop, and he was wearing the deflected portion on his grape. My man looked like a Thompson's gazelle, with stripes of bird crap wrapped halfway around his head.
I almost lost control of the car, and I couldn't stop laughing for miles.
"Sorry, Joe. At least it's not RAINING."

BWAH HAH HAH HAH!!!!!

Now that really DID make me laugh out loud. Poor guy's snake bit.

Cory -

It seems you were wearing a 'Sh*t-Eating-Grin (SEG)' while Joe was wearing a Sh*t-Wearing-Grin (SWG)'!

BLECH!! Looking forward to getting those goggles, Cory... Swine seagulls!
angela

OH SH*T!! Literally......

Had a similar experience back in the 70's on one of my Harleys in Malibu Canyon, got hit square in the side of my head by a crow size bird, no $hit, but I saw stars....this was before the helmet law...

Had a pelican hit me one night in Florida on the way out for the night. Half digested fish...imagine the stench.

Un-freaking-be-leave-able... and too funny too.... I had a bee hit me on my Harley (before it was a fad!) square in the forehead at 75 MPG going south on 605 fwy in Cerritos, prior to helmet law... I thought I got shot! had 2 inch welt to prove it too...

"D"

Had 2 bee's hit me on PCH years ago they got under my shirt collar and down my back, both stung me before I had a chance to pull over...

I was riding to the beach late one night doing about 100 mph on my bike when I ran through a swarm of cicadas (? kind of like Locusts) I had my feet on the back pegs so I was low enough to only get it in the helemt. It sounded like I was being hit with MLB fastballs! Scared the living crap out of me! I had to pull over to get the bug goo off my face sheild because I could barley see, scary and disgusting.

Oh God....those stories are totally gross.

Used to go water skiing every Saturday for many years. In the winter there are LOTS of ducks in our ski places. Some ducks (coots?) dive underwater to get fish. This one duck surfaces just in front of the boat. He tries to get airborne, but at 40 MPH the tip of the bow catches him right in the ass. This is long, low profile ski boat, with a half height windshield. Well, that bird laid a "racing stripe" of brown shit from the tip of the bow, down the entire deck, and up over the windshield, damn near on centerline the whole way. I bet that bird had one sore ass for a looong time! And were we glad he didn't catch us in the face!

On two wheels, I've had bees land in my crotch at speed (how fast can you brake?), and on the freeway a two foot length of 2 x 4 from two lanes over hit me square in the helmet as I kissed the gas tank. Now ask me why I ALWAYS wear a helmet?

After all these near-miss and close-aboard-hit stories, I may pop-rivet this combo to my head!

I've hit my fair share of creatures or vice versa over the years, but in the in the 'now-that's-funny' department I have to offer up what happened to me an Butch parked on First St last spring... I'm coming out from the store and there's an admirer looking Butch over stem to stern. We begin talking and he can't believe it's a replica, blah,blah,blah. I thank him for his compliments and suggest to him as I'm starting the car that this is the only way to go (real v. replica in my mind) and you guessed it, whap,whap.

Bird poop on my passenger seat, bird poop on the side of my face. I could only grin and say it's a different kind of motoring.

...and in closing:
Three explorers had arrived in Africa to explore territory that had never been seen by Europeans before. Immediately upon arrival, they enlisted the services of a native to translate for them and another native to act as a guide. After a few days, they had organized their supplies and secured the services of porters. They were ready at last!

Off they went into the jungle! They had a few days of travel before they got to the area they wished to explore. The travel went smoothly and uneventfully.

The day dawned when they began to travel into the unknown jungle. After a few hours travel, their guide got very excited upon seeing something on the ground. The three explorers and their translator hurried over to see what was the matter. The translator explained, "He says that this is the mark of the Fabulous Foo Bird! They are very rarely seen! They are very lucky!"

The explorers chuckled to themselves at the natives' superstitions and the safari moved on. After awhile, they heard a horrible squawking from the air above them. As they looked up to see what it was, the sun was briefly hidden as an enormous bird flew overhead.

As they were staring, there was a loud squelching sound, followed by cries of disgust from the senior explorer. The others turned to see that he was covered with bird poop. The guide got even more excited when he saw this and began gesturing frantically at the explorer.

The translator said, "That was the Fabulous Foo Bird! He says you must not wipe this off! If you leave it on and do not wash it off, you will receive untold wealth and fortune. But he continues,if you wipe it off, you will die horribly!"

"Nonsense!" said the explorer. He disgustedly cleaned himself up, all the while grumbling about superstitions. The natives began murmuring. They were very nervous. A short time later, the senior explorer was clean and still very much alive. "There! You see? Nothing to worry about!" he said. Three steps later he fell over dead, his body rotting away.

After the shock died down, the guide looked somewhat smug.

The next day, the same squawking was heard, followed by the appearance of the bird. This time, the second explorer was coated in Foo poop. Once again, the guide issued his hysterical warning.

"Poppycock!" said the second explorer. "That was a coincidence. I am not going to trek through Africa coated in bird droppings because of some silly superstition!" He proceeded to clean himself off, but wasn't even finished before he collapsed dead into a pile of dust.

The guide again looked somewhat smug.

The next day, the same squawking was heard, followed by the appearance of the Foo bird. This time, the youngest (and only remaining) explorer was coated in poop. Once again, the guide issued his hysterical warning. The nervous young explorer decided to play it safe and continue the exploration in his filthy state. This met with great approval by the guide and natives.

The expedition continued and proved to be a smashing success, with great discoveries. The young explorer received incredible accolades and lived a very long healthy and wealthy life.

From then on, enterprising explorers were always given this sage advice, "If the Foo shits, wear it."