Adventures in Cycle Commuting

Who needs to go camping in order to enjoy wilderness and adventure? Not me, that's for sure. I get my fill on my daily cycle commute. My bike ride is fun but hard, so double fun! Since y'all know I like my fun hard. (wink, wink, nudge, nudge, say no more...) I get to experience torrential downpour. Physical discomfort and exhaustion. Surprisingly large insects flying at me and sometimes going in my eyes even despite my sporty, wraparound sunglasses. There's a place where the path has washed away and become an Evil Sand Pit, making part of my commute into a quest through the Fire Swamp. And the other day, I ran into a squirrel. A squirrel!
Here's what happened:
I had just dodged a large flock of seagulls. I guess they were eating some fast-food leftovers that had spilled into the street, and they took off as I went by, making me duck and weave to avoid them. Self, I thought to myself, wouldn't that have sucked if you'd been hit by a seagull? Anyhoodle, picture this: I'm coasting comfortably down a nice hill when, up ahead, a grey squirrel with a fuck-off gigantic nut in its maw comes hoppity-hopping out of someone's garden and onto the sidewalk on my right-hand side, and then starts crossing the road. Now, I'm going quickly, but not really fast, and I judge that Mr. Big Nut will be out of my way by the time I get to where he's crossing, though it might be close. However, squirrels are ridiculously stupid, and so when I'm about a foot away from him, he hears or sees the bike and, even though he's in the clear, he decides to go back the way he came. A space now occupied by bicycle. He jumps. I can't slam on the brakes, since I'm not about to send myself over the handlebars in favour of some dumb rodent. Undeterred, Mr. Nut tries to get through my front wheel. He's bouncing around: against the spinning spokes and the asphalt, making very upset squirrel noises. ("Did it make that lovely motorcycle sound?" my father inquired of the squirrel vs. spokes when I told him this story. Yes, yes it did.) Then the squirrel is desperately grabbing onto the front fork on my bike, and then hopping onto my left calf! Ack! The squirrel is freakin' ON me, and I'm still speedily rolling down the hill.
I shriek and shake my leg. Squirrel! On leg! Squirrel gets off leg and runs off across the street. Which he really should have just done in the first place, since now we're both traumatized, and he's lost his gigantic nut.