Bad decisions make good stories.
About a year and a half ago, our daughter, her fiance, Juanita and I went out for a ride in the national forest across the highway from us (I love that the lodge is within a couple hundred yards of twenty plus hours of trails). Beautiful day for a ride, the horses were feeling good and so were we.
Now, for the last few years, I would occasionally grab a stick or limb while riding and carry it like a "lance". Ranger was never amused, but would put up with it for a couple minutes. On this particular trail ride as we were walking along the trail, I passed the best-lance-ever beside the trail. It was about twenty feet off the trail in the middle of a small, pine-needle covered opening in the trees. "Woo hoo!" I chortled as I jumped off my horse and ran for this long, straight, natural lance. Great, about fifteen feet of straight stick! I grabbed my new stick and climbed back onto Ranger.
Ranger and I have reached an understanding over the years. He understands that he can buck hard enough to send me skyward, and I understand that it hurts like crazy when the trip is over. This arrangement works out pretty well, though I think Ranger is happier with it than I am.
I had just seated myself on my little mustang, when he took serious offense to the new situation. ***"DROP IT BILL"*** "Wait, Ranger this is a really great..." ***"NO NO NO NO OFF OFF OFF OFF"***.. I have a very clear memory of thinking how stupid I was going to feel trying to explain to the EMT's why I had fifteen feet of stick jammed into me. I threw the stick away about the third bounce. Ranger continued *** "OFF OFF OFF OFF"***. So, I did.
I had made a world class three point landing (both heels and my butt) in the pine needle covered clearing, and was still holding a rein. At the end of this particular rein was a bug-eyed, lock-jawed, pissed off little mustang. And, just off to my right, still on the trail were three horses, with three riders and all six had the same open mouthed expression-"Swiss cheese feces! What was that!" (It's a G rated blog, I can't say holy sh*t).
I stood up, dusted myself off, and climbed back onto my horse, without my stick. I think I'll pass on any future jousting tournaments I might be invited to.
No pictures, thankfully.