The Peterbilt Mare

Since I saw the wording, I think I'll use it.  Here is a guest post from my Dad (Jere Johnson, of Natural Remuda Equine Learning Center), check 'em out...you can learn a lot!

 

Here's Dad:

My dad was a horse trader and some of the horses he bought didn’t have the best dispositions.  One day, he came home from the sale with a sorrel horse in the back of the pickup.  (We didn’t have a trailer, just stock racks on the truck).  I was 16, had a date and was starting to leave when Dad arrived on the scene.  He stepped out and told me to grab my saddle.  He wanted to check out the horse he bought at the sale.  I mentioned that I had a date and he gave me that look.  You know the kind.  The one that says you better do as I say.  Besides that, he said three kids had ridden this horse into the ring.  Thinking back now, that should have been a warning sign.  Kid horses ridden through the sale will hurt you. 

You didn’t tell my dad no, so I saddled up and stepped on.  To my surprise, the horse walked off as smooth as you please, for about 10 steps.  Then, boy, she buried her head and started pitching.  My mom started yelling “get off” and I thought about it pretty hard, for about a jump.  But the driveway was looking a whole lot harder than my thoughts.  My next thought was that I was way better off on top this bucking thing my dad was calling a horse.  I also thought I was a real bronc peeler, so I figured I would ride her out.  Everything was going pretty good and we bucked around the yard.  I looked like Casey Tibbs, or thought I did anyway.  Then, instead of going straight, she turned and went down the lane towards the highway.  I thought she surely would give up before we got there, but she didn’t weaken.  She bucked straight and strong right down the driveway like she didn’t have a care in the world.  I rode her until she got pretty close to the highway, I bailed off and out on the highway she went. 

As I looked up from the gravel and dirt, I could see a Peterbilt truck coming up the hill towards our driveway.  The bucking mare slipped and fell on the pavement in front of that truck.  The truck driver slammed on the brakes and got stopped; he jumped out and asked me if I was ok.  With a little disgust in my thoughts, I said, “Yes, I am fine, but you made one mistake. You should have run right over her instead of stopping.”  

Needless to say I was late for my date and I don’t think that girl ever believed my excuse.