This little story that I had with horseback riding took place in the horrid winter of 1992. It was early January to be specific and for those of you who don’t know, January in Michigan is generally unpleasant. For those of you who do know January in Michigan, you must agree that whether or not you like it, it is cold, snowy, wet, mostly grey and often dreary – nothing that makes you jump out of bed and think “what can I do outside today – other than risk infection.” What the average, clinically normal person wants to do is to stay inside where it is dry and warm and nothing more. What I remember about the winter in 1992, was particularly hellish at that time. Snow, wind, sleet, etc. Proof that Mother Nature really doesn’t want people to go skiing, snowball fighting, ice skating, etc. and that winter sports should simply be classed as endurance tests. It was just truly awful.
At that time I was seeing a girl who absolutely loved horseback riding and could not imagine a greater pleasure in the world than galloping around the fields, jumping over small walls, riding off into the sunset on horseback, etc., basically everything I am….not. Now I must explain how I feel about horses....I like them, but I don't love them. To me, they are large, grain eating, eco-friendly, fuzzy tractors. As a work animal they can provide a great, utilitarian (albeit outdated) service, but as an entertainment – not so much. My previous horseback ridding experience could be divided up between a slow merry-go-round and a very old and tame nag who walked along the same path several times a day. Both experiences were very enjoyable at the time, but well passed me. Well, one day, a friend of my girlfriend had another friend who owned four horses and asked her if she wanted to go riding. My girlfriend had been riding with these friends before while I stayed away, which I thought to be a very amiable arrangement. So, upon hearing this, I immediately began to ponder what I would do that day as I knew I wouldn’t see my girlfriend from dawn till dusk knowing she would spend all day and night riding if she could. My intricate plan of watching television and eating macaroni and cheese out of the pot were then interrupted with the inevitable looking at the boyfriend and asking “do you want to go too?” My mind began to race with ideas and excuses of why I could not go. I needed an answer that was firm enough and could mask my unwillingness to partake in the equestrian festivities, yet tactful and sensitive enough to demonstrate that I was a caring boyfriend.
“No. I’m not going”
“What? Why not? Give me a reason not to go”
“I don’t horseback ride” Then looking deeply into her eyes, seeing the hurt that this could cause and realizing how much this meant to her “but because I feel very strongly about you…NO! the answer is still no. I’m not going”
“Oh come on! They have four horses!”
“Which is what they will need to drag me kicking and screaming to the stable with. I will not go riding”
“It will be so much fun”
“It won’t be fun. It will cold and miserable. Wait, wait, let me restate that – “I” will be cold and miserable. I’m not going”
“Well then, will you at least come to the stables with us?”
“You mean you want me to come with you and sit in a cold and drafty stable in January while you and your friends go out riding? No, I refuse. I’m putting my foot down – no more discussion. I have a full day planned. I’m not going and that’s final. Now, where is the macaroni and cheese and the television remote control?”
So as I sat in the back of the car sulking as we drove to the stables, I began to replay that discussion in my mind of how and why I was going to a field in the middle of nowhere to watch other people ride horses in the middle of January even though I said I wouldn’t. I mean, what possess a person to want to do that, but more importantly what possess a man to FOLLOW? Regardless, being the good sport that I am, I decided to take a better attitude and tried to join the joyous spirit in which it was intended to this.
“I’m cold. Turn up the heat” I groused
“It’s not THAT cold. I can’t wait to get there”
“It IS cold. If you don’t turn the heat up, I’ll have frostbite before we get there and will have to go to the hospital”
“The heat is on full blast. You’ll have to wait for the car to warm up”
“WARM UP?! We’ve been the car for 30 minutes now! How much longer do we have to wait? Where are these fabled horses? Anchorage?! Who has matches? Start a fire or something”
This was obviously a fun filled drive to the stables. We eventually arrive to the snowy winter wonderland (commonly known in religious circles as “hell”). A snow covered field in the middle of nowhere. No trails. No little inn to serve tea and coffee. Nothing. “My God – they’ve taken me to Siberia” I thought. My suspicions were confirmed when we opened the door to exist the car were hit by a blast of cold air that would have made penguins look at each other and say “damn! Who has matches? Start a fire or something!” Well anyway, we arrived and there are the three of them (my girlfriend, her friend and the owner) jump out and are damn near skipping to the stable giddy with anticipation and excitement, while I continued to don my part in an reenactment of a Shakespearean tragedy of the Highlands ("So foul and fair a day I have not seen”) and mournfully trudged along tripping and whimpering in a foot of snow behind them.
Then, for some unknown reason, as they saddled their horses, they asked me if I wanted to go riding with them as well. Having thought that this issue was settled earlier, with an incredulous glare I told them that I was perfectly happy to sit, watch, and wait for them.
“OH come on! You must go!”
“No, no, I’m fine. Thank you. You go and enjoy.”
“It will be fun!”
“No really, I’m not really a horseback rider”
“It won’t be the same if you don’t go”
“No, seriously. I’ve made my mind up and I will just wait for you all here.”
So…as I saddled the last horse – a glorified Shetland pony named “Tony” - I continued to think how persuasive a girlfriend can be. Is this how wars are started? Some poor bastard listening to his girlfriend? I began to imagine Eva coyly looking at Adolf over a stein of beer in Munich
“Aaaadooolf, I’d really like some pirogi and the BEST ones are from Warsaw”
“Nein, nien, mein teurer schatz, Warsaw is in Poland – too far away”
“But I REALLY want some”
And then BAM! Troops go goose stepping into Poland sparking World War II! Well, for whatever reason (obviously trying to impress the girlfriend I hope), I was determined to take life by the reigns (*ahem) and make the best of it. It might actually be fun.
They told me that they would start off into the field and once I was ready I should come join them. Having little experience saddling horses – like NONE, it took me quite awhile to finish my task. By this time they were far, far away, but that didn't matter – my mighty steed could gallop and I was ready to go!
I jumped on the horse and took off out of the stable at a fast trot and making it about 5 meters from the stable when that same blast of cold wind that hit me when I initially got out of the car, hit the horse who came to a dead stop. Tony the pony, and I swear this is true, then looks at me and says “Yo! Nanuk of the North! You’re joking right? It’s freakin’ freezin’ out here! We’re not going into the fields!” and promptly decided that he wanted to turn around and go inside. Moreover, it was his feeding time and he was feeling a bit “peckish.” Normally, I’m sure that I would have acquiesced to his request, but you must understand that I had already lost 20-30 minutes of my life standing in horse urine soaked hay to saddling up the fury beast and now was determined to join the others, who I could vaguely see across the field. I had to join them to demonstrate that I could do this and was a sport. So to recap, let me put some facts together 1) it's cold and the horse wants to go inside 2) the horse is very hungry and wants to go inside 3) I have no idea what I'm doing and the horse definitely wants me off his back so it can go inside. 4) The horse was obviously a gelding as it does not care how persuasive a girlfriend can be. Thus, a power struggle for dominance over the situation erupted between a small human and a large horse.
The result should be obvious....I pulled on the reins and the horse decided to throw me off. Fortunately (or unfortunately), my feet were caught in the stirrups and I was secured to the saddle as the horse jumped around like in a rodeo while I bounced in the saddle like a clown. Out of sheer terror of being thrown into the air and then stomped on by this animal, I foolishly continued to pull on the reins. That’s when he decided to rear up on its’ back legs and dance around in circles on them. When this happened I lost the reins and held onto its’ mane in one hand while waving my other one for help. It would be a good time to add that I by now I was screaming “woo hoo! hoo!” like Goofy from a Walt Disney cartoon in order to attract the attention of the others.
Although this "tactic" did get their attention; what they saw was the horse doing "tricks" (jumping and dancing) and me holding on with only one hand and waving with the other. They of course were greatly impressed with my fine horseplay and acrobatic skills (after all, I had claimed that I was not a rider and here I was doing rodeo tricks), waved back to me and continued riding on without me. As the horse continued to kick, one of my shoes shot off my foot into the air like a rocket and landed somewhere in the snowy field. Eventually I calmed the horse down and jumped off him as soon as possible and hopped around in a foot snow on one foot looking for my other shoe. Eventually the others came over wondering why I wasn't riding over to them and…oh yeah… more curiously, why I was standing in the snow on one leg. On the way over, one of them noticed a shoe lying in the field and dared to state “hey! Someone lost a shoe – I wonder whose it is” “You wonder?! I can’t imagine, but perhaps if it’s my size I’ll take as I seem to be missing MINE!” After explaining that “black beauty” had another idea of a good time and it didn’t include toting a passenger around a snowy field, it was decided that I should call it a day.
Just for the record, I’m still not a horseback rider.
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