They say the shortest distance between two points is a straight line (or not) and often this is the case in narrative as well. Others promote the concept of starting at the beginning, and then going straight on until the end and then stopping (and that might have been the Mad Hatter — or the White Queen?). If I tried to start at the beginning, we’d be here all day.
Suffice it to say that due to a broken trailer hitch, things did not go as planned for some participants. The trailer hitch broke 4-5 miles from the barn as our convoy headed out. We were fortunate that it happened at a stop sign in a small town rather than out on the krAZy I-270 loop. We were blessed that the breakdown occured near a highway construction site and that a friendly worker with a pickup was able to trailer the horses back home. Oh, another good thing was that one of the other partcipants and I walked over to one of those small “outpost” McDonald’s across the street to get away from the confusions, the phone calls, the policeman directing traffic, etc., and to eat Egg McMuffins. And coffee. It was still only just past 8:00 a.m.
It all got sorted out (who was going to ride in what where with whom and also the why and how). We all went back home to the barn for the reconfiguration. Since there was only room in the barn trailer for four horses and since the broken one carried only two — and one of them was the mount of 1/2 of the Classic Pearls who were scheduled to ride, the other half (me) was made to understand that she would have to stay behind as well. I blush to admit that at first, I didn’t understand and thought I’d be able to go anyway. But as soon as I savvied the logistics, I saw the lay of the land. So the Classic Pearls hung out at the barn and rode around in the bottom land near the creek after grooming our confused but willing horses. The weather was perfect and as always, we had a nice talk. I like to think that I interupted a spook or two from Mo, and in all it was a relaxing ride.
I’ve had two not-so-hot firsts with horse stuff — my first (and possibly last) horse that I owned myself got sick right away, was too much for me, etc., and my first event was a non-event. But I’ve been through the five (is it five?) stages of grief over the thing. Next year? Maybe, maybe not. It sure would be nice to get a small party together and go ride in one of the metro parks (there’s two, each within about 10-15 miles of the barn), but I have no trailering abilities nor the technology.