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Horseback Riding

Horseback Riding 1984

Age: Ten

           

            Her name was Candi. Large chunks of caramel and vanilla made up her beautiful coat. I’m not sure what brought on the love affair, but some where along the line, I fell for her.

            At eight years old, I began riding horses. I rode once a year at a resort called Brookside. I can’t say where the overconfidence came from, but even though riding horses was only an annual event, I believed that I was an all-out, equestrian rider. Dig, Shell and I took our “horseback riding” very seriously. We passed the equipment knowledge test every year and were pleased with our ability to successfully guide our horses around the barrel course.

Saddle, saddle horn, reins, bridle, bit, stirrups and cinch strap or “latigo” were the horse basics taught to us. We chanted those words as if the shear knowledge of their existence made us experts.

            Leah, her brother Kyle, Ann, Dave, and Dig’s brother Rod were included in the horseback riding excursions. They also preferred certain horses but were not as obsessed as Dig, Shell and me…Alright, maybe just me. I did love my horse.

            Like our trip to Disney World, my mind has settled on remembering only a few riding highlights. For instance, one time Dig’s horse, Mr. Jim, decided to roll over and itch his back with Dig still riding him. Dig miraculously managed some MacGyver-like escape and jumped off unscathed.

            Another time, I decided to ditch my beautiful horse Candi for Queen, the oldest horse in the bunch. Why, you might ask? Well, that particular day we were to ride our horses into the open pasture and learn to cantor. I chose to leave my beloved Candi behind and ride the oldest horse with the assumption that she would be the slowest runner. You haven’t forgotten my reputation as a wimp, have you? For some reason, the old Queen was still quite the athlete and passed up almost every other horse in line. Luckily, I found it exhilarating and actually had a great time.

            Then there was Tonka. I don’t recall much about him except that he had a spotted, white butt and was one of the ugliest horses I had ever seen. Dig rode him quite a few times. Come to think of it, Dig rode a lot of crazy horses. Another one was Rambler, who was out of control and continually bit other horses in the butt. What was Dig’s deal? Why did he have such weird horse luck?

            Anyway, there is one event that sticks out in my mind and also scarred me a bit. I had arrived early, as usual, to save my horse. But this time it would not be Candi. Candi had given birth to a baby named Little Joe Cody. He was so lovely. Everybody just went crazy for him.

Since the birth, Candi was taking a much, deserved break so I had to weigh my other options. For the life of me, I cannot remember which horse I chose to ride. Although, it was dark brown, which makes me think “Rambler,” but why would I intentionally choose to ride such a wild horse? At any rate, I found myself in unfamiliar territory: A new horse and a new trail all in one day. What was I getting myself into?

            In order calm my nerves, I decided to become acquainted with my new horse. I took the time to pet her and talk to her about our upcoming journey. This ride would be an hour long and I wanted my horse to trust me and be cool.

            Luckily, Dig and Shell were the only two riders to see me act like a crazy horse lady. They most likely found me a bit odd sometimes but they tolerated me anyway.

Disney II

The following day we found ourselves at Epcot Center. If you have never been there, I encourage you to go. It’s filled with information from dinosaurs to technology to agriculture. Plus, you get a quick overview about the people and customs of many countries from around the world. It’s educational and fun.

I was, however, surprised that most of the neighbor kids found it boring and convinced their parents to take them back to The Magic Kingdom. How could they not like this place? I didn’t worry about it for too long because Dig and Shell wanted to stay with me, so I was satisfied.        

If I haven’t said it before, Dig was the smartest kid I knew. His grandma knew everything, his dad knew everything and Dig followed in their footsteps. My sister and I did not know everything but were interested in giving it a try. I knew that Dig would love Epcot - it was right up his alley.

We ran around together sponging up information. We embraced learning with open arms, even on vacation.

Although, plain old fun was also in our vocabulary and that was what we had at Wet ‘n’ Wild the following day. It was the largest water park I had ever seen. The plan was to spend the entire day basking in the sun, going on waterslides and hanging out in the wave pool.

Dig, Shell and I stuck together again and tried out almost every slide in the park. I say almost because the slide with the seventy-five foot drop was not particularly appealing to me. But of course all of the neighbor kids, including Dig and Shell, were intrigued by it. I truly had no interest in the slide, but somewhere between “no” and “never,” I found myself walking up the enormous ramp to the top of the monstrosity.

On the way up, I started to feel confused. What the hell was I doing? I don’t go on things like this, I don’t go on scary rides, I don’t even think twice about it, I just say no. And now there I was, walking the plank with all of my friends. They had convinced me to walk with them to the top and just take a look.

“You don’t have to go.” They said in unison. “Just walk with us. You can be our support system.”

Maybe it was the lack of peer pressure or plain old curiosity, but soon I found myself at the top of the waterslide dubbed “The Kamikaze.” Now Dig was smart enough to know the definition of Kamikaze where I was not. I thought it was a made up name that sounded fun.

Dig and Shell were both scared to death, yet at the same time unable to control their excitement. They were bouncing up and down in line like a couple of school kids. I guess they were a couple of school kids and that is why the expression exists in the first place, but my point is that they were giddy.

I, on the other hand, was an uptight observer. I swear I could see Minnesota from the top of the slide. I think I even ducked once because an airplane flew by.

I must have been consumed by my surroundings because suddenly, out of nowhere, water was engulfing my feet. Dig, Shell and I were standing in one foot of water watching damn fools disappear as they slid down the slide.

“Wait a minute!” I cried. “I’m not going.”

Shell and Dig looked at me nervously and said, “Why not? We are here?”

What a great argument. Well, if we are here, that makes perfect sense. Why didn’t you say that before?!

Then something came over me. I am not sure if it was laziness because I would have to walk all the way down the gigantic ramp or the embarrassment of the walk of shame, but I made a split second decision to go down the slide. Before I could stop myself, Dig, Shell and I each sat in our own slide, crossed our hands over our chests, crossed our legs and pushed off. Keeping your limbs crossed was the best way to ensure that you kept them when the ride was over.

The slide went straight down seventy-five feet then jetted out at about a right angle giving you ample time to slow down and catch your breath. I don’t remember much of the ride except that I was air born for a second or two and it terrified me. The ride ended quickly, though, so the fear I experienced was short-lived.

When I finally stopped moving, I sat up, pulled my swimsuit out of you know where, and heard a gasp. I looked around and saw all of the neighbor kids staring at me with their mouths on the ground. Prior to that moment, the tilt-a-whirl was the scariest ride I had ever braved. I smiled shyly and said, “What?”

I knew the feat confused my friends but hey, who likes to be totally predictable? My reputation did not change entirely, but from time to time, I did receive curious looks from each of the neighbor kids. Their wimpiest friend had a courageous side after all. And that seemed to bring intrigue.

I would like to say that I have a million memories from this trip, but truth be told, I have more feelings than memories. The only actual memories I can conjure up are the Disney Character breakfast, where we ate breakfast while Mickey and the gang roamed the room, realizing that my blond hair had turned green because of excess pool use and the song “We are the World” was playing on the radio while we drove to the Atlantic Ocean.

The bottom line, that trip brings a smile to my face when I sit back and reflect on it. What a great vacation. What a special group.