I now have a rat bike. Not, unfortunately, in the tradition of Havoc's beautiful old Triumph.

Sometime between Tuesday evening, when I rode it last, and Thursday evening, when I first noticed the damage, something had chewed on the seat of my beautiful 89 FXLR!

Friday morning when I left for work there was a big puddle of washer fluid under Debb's car. We popped open the hood and there staring back at us (peeved I'm sure for disturbing his peace) was a GOD DAMN RAT! He quickly scurried off down the firewall and under my shelves. Suddenly I had gone from middle-class to third-world. All day Friday at work I planned my rat offensive.

We had inadvertantly given him a nice home. A two inch high space under the storage shelves and some of my shop rags for a nest, a 25 pound bag of dog food (and an inexhaustable supply of naugahyde) to eat, and apparently a taste for windshield washer fluid to wash it all down with. (Could this be the rat's equivelant of a WetLeather party at Martin's; fine food, a good cigar and a glass of port to finish it off?) The GOD DAMN RAT was living the good life!

Operation Rat began with reconnaissance. I moved a bunch of junk out of the way, got my drop light and went looking for the GOD DAMN RAT. Found him nestled comfortably among my missing shop rags surrounded by a substantial stash of my dog's food. He was unmoved by banging on the shelves, poorly aimed jabs with the rake handle and loud swearing.

Operation Rat swung into high gear. Habitat removal began in earnest, the garage equivelant of scorched earth. Shop vac, garden tools, potting soil, weed killer, tool benches, picnic tables, Vision parts, S100 bottles, shop rags, SCSI disk enclosures, sand blaster, sand blaster sand, boxes of old college text books, christmas ornaments. Well, you get the idea. The GOD DAMN RAT apparently was unconcerned; he had not moved.

With a clear field of fire, I moved in. My plan was to use the rake handles to herd him out from under, since the rake itself would not fit under the shelf. That was my plan. The GOD DAMN RAT's plan was to enjoy this brief interlude of aerobic exercize by neatly hopping over the rake handle whenever it came by. He rested while I cursed.

The bottom shelf had to go. The GOD DAMN RAT had way too much freedom of movement under there while I had few options for weapons that would fit in the space. Visons of VC tunnels came to me. I hauled another half-a-pickup-load-of-stuff off the shelf and out of the garage. I had built these shelves when we moved in ten years ago. I built them from the bottom up. I had the bottom shelf about halfway out when the whole thing sagged ominously. I used one rake handle to prop it up and the other to finally herd the GOD DAMN RAT out of my garage.

What a mess! The GOD DAMN RAT had free room and board and still couldn't be bothered to have anyone come by and straighten up. He had been there a while, so I don't know what brought on the sudden appetite for Harley naugahyde. I have rebuilt the shelf and sealed off the bottom space. The dog's food is in a metal container and the garage doors reworked to close more tightly. Now to get the seat fixed.

Other than that I had a nice weekend. Anybody need any SCSI disk enclosures?