My private war with the pigeons near my home is a long-running affair with many casualties on their side and many more poops on my car. A few days ago, I scored a minor victory.
A particularly fat sh*t-bird was standing in the middle of the road. It saw me coming and stupidly stood, watching. You want to play Chicken with me, bird? Let’s play! After double-checking that there was no other traffic on the road with me in either direction, I pointed the Hot Rod straight at the stupid bird and accelerated. The bird finally got a clue it was being overrun by a great white horror, and launched but too late and too slowly. I could tell it was trying really hard, and it hurt my feelings a little by just *barely* coming up over my driver’s side front corner. I thought I had missed again.* As it turns out, it was too far over MTOW** to achieve sufficient RoC** and I got some rather important-looking souvenirs for my efforts:
I sincerely hope the flying rat was grounded long enough for one of the local cats to do some wet work for me.
*Yes, again. I do this. You would too, if you had cleaned as much pigeon poo off your car as I have.
**Maximum Take Off Weight, Rate of Climb