Bonanza, remember that show? Everyone knew how to ride a horse, especially Little Joe. Oh, how I loved little Joe, but that's a story for another time.
My experience riding on a horse? Not so spectacular. It was in the rolling hills of Bowling Green, Kentucky during a summer trail ride. I'd trail ridden several times before, but was not prepared for that day. I knew something was wrong about one quarter of the way through, riding this tall mass of muscle, sweat and hair. Boy, was he tall. He kept turning his head and biting at my shoe. Then he would buck his back legs up in the air in an effort to throw this 14 year old load off his back. The advice fellow riders gave was great, it just didn't work. Slack off on the reigns. Sit straighter. Don't squeeze so tight with your knees. Then the rider in front of me broke into a run and my horse followed. How to ride a horse? Let go of the reigns, lay down on his neck, grab on for dear life and scream like a nine year old girl in a room full of spiders. You would think this was bad enough, but wait, there's more. He saw the barn and broke into a full run. I have no idea how I stayed on, but away we both went until we reached the bottom of the hill and into the barn. Once there he started banging against the walls until I grabbed onto a stall door and jumped off. To this day I don't know how I got away without any bruises or being trampled.
Once I was on the ground, he stopped and looked at me as if to say, "Hey, do you come here often?" No. And I never went back. Turns out the groomer didn't spray the poor thing down and there was a pebble under his blanket.
