How Do You Steer This Thing

                The first time I was allowed to visit a friend’s farm my Dad made it clear that I was not to ride or even go near the horses without an adult present.
               The minute I got there we headed toward the barn as though we were on a mission. My friend told me her parents were busy so I had to tell her about my Dad's warning. After a brief discussion we found just enough justification to keep going.  She set a wooden crate down next to a large white horse and told me to get on.  She was up on the other horse within seconds telling me not to worry because my horse would follow hers and we would just walk. Did I mention we were riding bare back? It sounded like a good idea at the time but it was uncomfortable and I was unable to straddle the wide animal enough to stay centered.  We had to go around an old wagon that had grass on one side and a large mud puddle on the other.  My friend walked her horse right through the mud.  I don’t know if it was because my horse was white or if I was afraid it would get stuck like an old sedan but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. It wasn’t much of an argument because as hard as I tugged, begged and leaned my horse just kept on following hers but, unfortunately, I didn’t. 

It was more of a slide than a fall and nothing was broken but I had done enough damage to warrant a trip to the doctor.  There was no contest between the pain in my shoulder and the pain of having to call my dad to pick me up.  They say mothers are psychic.  He never even asked what happened he knew the minute I called.  The obvious physical pain I was in did manage to soften his anger, but I could tell the sympathy ended way before the disappointment.   My friend moved away about a year later and in all that time I never had the nerve to ask my dad to let me visit the farm again.  Some dreams are best left to the imagination at least for the time being.