When I was in my wild college years, I had the good fortune of dating a woman who lived near a ranch in New Paltz, New York. The whole scene and most of the people involved were, shall we say in the parlance of the time, Counter Culture.
The ranch itself was run by a guy named Louie, yes Louie. Even though we were a long way from the Wild West, he looked as if you asked Central Casting to send up a traditional cowboy, Louie would show up. He provided livestock for rodeos up and down the entire East Coast. How he wound up doing that on a ranch in New Paltz, NY or where he actually came from, I either have no idea or simply don't remember any more!
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| Louie |
My girlfriend, Kathy, was somewhat of an anomaly too. I met her while we students together at Rutgers in Newark. She was a nice Italian girl who lived with her mother and brother in a small, back apartment in Bloomfield, NJ. So, even though she was a city girl, her late father gave her a healthy appreciation for nature and that's where she preferred to spend her time. In fact, when we first met we were both biology majors with an emphasis on studying the environment.
So, rather than spend her summers in dreary Bloomfield or Newark, NJ she would work on Louie's ranch in New Paltz. She worked mucking the stables and, in return, she got to board and ride her own horse in her free time.
It was there, with her, that this nice Sicilian boy from Fort Lee, NJ whose soul belonged to the big city, learned to ride horses - and love it.
I have to say that even though I had little to no experience as an equestrian, I was kind of a natural. As a kid, I always loved cowboys and cowboy movies. In fact, while most kids wore sneakers, I was known for wearing cowboy boots while clomping around the streets of Fort Lee. I kept that tradition right on through my college days. I was also as strong as could be, probably at the height of my physical powers. So, I had no natural fear of horses. I respected their awesome capacity as athletes and their unmatched physical ability to run, seemingly forever. But I had no fear.
Kathy was always gracious and would allow me to bring some of my derelict friends from the neighborhood for a day of riding in the country. We all got to choose a horse that suited our skill levels, with most of the horse being pretty docile.
But not all.
And those were the horses I wanted to ride!
I could hardly wait to get to an empty, open field where I could really let that horse - and me - go! I'd give him a good kick in the flanks and let him run. I loved getting out over the reigns, not leaning back but surging forward. Everything meshed so that me and the horse were now as one; legs, torsos, heads, in unison, all as one. That awkward trot was now replaced by a full out, balls to the wall charge!
Then, like my ol' 1967 Pontiac Firebird Formula 400 with the supercharged 400 cubic inch engine and the Holley 4 Barrell Carburetor, just when you though that you had maxed out your speed, like kicking in that 4 Barrell, that horse would gulp in the extra air with a whooomp and off we went.
Fearless. As one.
I don't think that I was ever a particularly masterful equestrian but, man I could really ride.
I miss those days.
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