Beer, Ginger Ale and Gristle
Trampling down the prairie rose leaving hoof tracks in the sand
Those who wish to follow me I welcome with my hands
I heard from passing renegades Geronimo was dead
He’d been laying down his weapons when they filled him full of lead
Indian Sunset, Mad Man Across The Water by Elton John
Leaning against the kitchen sink and munching and grinding gristle with our teeth was a treat after a long ride on the horses. My mom left stew bones on the kitchen counter cooling off. Refreshing our spirits by reaching in the freezer to pull out a cold mug of Coors Beer. Ruff was about 14 at the time. She was about 4 foot 5 inches and had a small but sturdy frame. Mousey blond long hair fell widely around her. Her blue-green eyes and a large scare on her face fit her. As a toddler the family German Shepard, who was half wolf, attacked her but that was not a problem for Ruff. She rode her grey roan Appaloosa like he was made just for her. Ruff would cuss you out if ya messed with her. She rode bareback and also had a western saddle, with a good ‘old rope circled around her horn in the front. She practiced barrel racing in a large field below her home. Raubie was slow moving horse but Ruff was good at getting him going-on a real smooth soft gallop around the barrels. The barrels were built up rocks and boxes.
On Saturdays we took long rides. Stopping in at a local store near Topanga Canyon, we bought Ginger Ale. Two large bottles. Some for us and some for the horses. They loved it. They also loved beer. My dad often gave Sony his bottle to drink down. We laughed. Sony would drink it down and make it look so good. My mustang stood about 14 hands high and was a good size for me. Sony wildly ran up hills. Hanging on tight you could not stop his free run. I had a bareback pad and an English saddle, which caused a lot of quarreling between Ruff and I on what was the better ride She rode a western saddle.I was not a fancy English rider that rode around a little ring for tournaments. There was nothing like riding an English saddle on a jump. Ruff and I could do it with the best of them.
I made jumps for the horses out of bamboo shoots that grew near my parents house. A large field below made a great riding ring for jumping. Sony was an excellent jumper. It was a great feeling like riding on a swing, that butterfly feeling that you feel in your belly. Sony, with a powerful jerk, could fling me off him. He even stopped abruptly in front of the jump and begin to eat the bamboo. We trashed jumping after some time. Instead we would sneak into rings in the Santa Monica Mountains. We raced through a few great open farms. We were often chased away, but always went back later.
Hudley Flipside @COPYWRITE The Adventures of Sony and Raubie