Thank You For Traveling Air Hudson, Please Fly Again Soon…

Most. Uncomfortable. Gallop. Ever.

Below is what I thought, as Hudson blasted down the big arena’s long side in a jarring blur of  pipe rail:

  1. Strange. I cued for a trot.
  2. This is dang uncomfortable. I know we’re at speed, but that shouldn’t…
  3. Why am I in the air?
  4. Why is my air time alternating with slamming into the saddle?
  5. This reminds me of something…almost have it….
  6. How weird is this? This feels just like riding the bull…
  7. I wonder why it feels like…Uh Oh…

Yes. I was that slow.

Seriously. It took the entire long side, many jolts into the air, and 4 or 5 savagely good leaps and pile drives for my brain to arrive here: Hudson was bucking.

I spent an embarrassing amount of time wondering why the saddle kept inexplicably disappearing, being annoyed Hudson wouldn’t stay on the bit (once Dressage Brain is activated, all other reality ceases to exist), and wondering how my equitation could just vanish. I mean, I was in the air at least half the time we were galloping?

Translation: I was too stupid to fall off.

In all the years I’ve ridden him, Hudson has never even kicked out in happiness, let alone bucked.

When I told Bella, she said: “What did you DO?!?”

BTW, this is the right response. I thought the same thing while still on board. Any other horse I’d look at multiple factors, and well, I would have known they were bucking. I did make sure he wasn’t in pain. That was my second thought after, “What did I DO?!?”

This is what I did:

I did not take into account The Bad Thing.

Hudson is going to tell you about it tomorrow…

14 thoughts on “Thank You For Traveling Air Hudson, Please Fly Again Soon…

    1. Me. Too. It sure as heck was not riding skill. I’m not a great buck rider. I think sheer dimness kept me relaxed enough to stay with him. I’m positive it was not an attempt to unload me. If it was, I’d still be picking the dirt out of my teeth!
      Honestly, I”m amazed I didn’t fall off. Sheer dumb luck.

  1. Dude, whatever it was, your response was totally legit. I get it. Bad Things are very bad. That lady is lucky all you did was buck, I’m sure. You were probably holding it together really well, under the circumstances. Probably going to be useless trying to explain it to them tomorrow, but we can try, at least. Humans. Hmph.

    1. Tucker, I knew you would immediately grasp the situation. I was holding it together with Herculean effort. I think she gets it now?

  2. Darned WordPress wouldn’t let me log in earlier and I think it’s brought out my inner child.
    More! I want more! I want more!

    1. It’s horrible, just…horrible.
      I believe I need some more sustenance before I can speak of it. Waiter? Another round of oats, please.

  3. Ginger waited for a beach ride (complete with several greenhorns along or the ride) to show me her bucking and rearing prowess. I wonder if they have been discussing notes? Well you know the rest of the story. Can’t wait for Hudson’s explanation.

    1. Laurie, Laurie, Laurie. How long have you known us? Ginger and I meet at least twice a week in the evenings, over a cold bucket of water and a few carrots, and discuss the problems and issues that arise in the area of training one’s owner.

      Obviously, if you had been listening to her, she would have had that pedicure and massage by now, and Ginger would appear to be devoted to you. (Yes, we actually practice The Look of Absolute Devotion. It makes us roll with laughter.)

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