Saddle Up

Groupon sent along a 51% discount offer for horseback riding lessons today, no doubt an attractive come-on to the tack set, but for me just a reminder of one of the more, shall I say in a mixed metaphor way, fish-out-of-water experiences of my youth.

Shortly after coming home from being a waiter in summer camp 46 years ago, my bunkmates Larry and Stu, both from Long Island, decided to come to Brooklyn so we could do some horseback riding in Prospect Park. None of us had ridden before, but we were confident as any 16-year-old would be that our years of watching Gunsmoke, Bonanza and other westerns had sufficiently primed us to be cowboys.

I don’t remember the name of the nag I mounted, but he was definitely an ornery type. Our trail guide cautioned to keep a tight rein on our horses, to keep them to the right of the trail. But no matter how hard I tugged at the reins, my horse kept drifting to the left.

When we reached the midway point, my horse decided to entertain everyone by doing his impression of a camel. He folded his legs and started to crouch down. I’d seen this maneuver in too many oaters; I knew the next move would be to roll over and crush my leg, so I jumped out of the saddle, screaming.

To the rescue rode the guide, who proceeded to whip the horse with a burlap rope for a minute or so before telling me to get back on. I still remember telling him I didn’t think that was a good idea as the horse would think I was the one who whipped him. When it appeared the guide was getting ready to whip me, I jumped back into the saddle. The ride back to the stable was mostly uneventful, except for the time the horse purposely carried me under a low hanging tree limb, forcing me to bed tight to his neck like a jockey in a stretch run.

It took me about 30 years before I rode again, this time in Tucson while visiting Gilda’s sister. I can’t say I missed it. As you might have guessed, I passed on today’s Groupon discount.