I lived and worked for this farmer, who at the time was single. Along with his aging Irish mother, he farmed the old family homestead. She cooked and cleaned the huge white clapboard house that we three lived in. I remember that white house was always cool- it sat on a hill with huge elm and oak trees providing shade for it. I had a bedroom upstairs next to the bathroom.
Being a large Irish Catholic family, there were plenty of kids around on weekends. They would come out from the cities- Minneapolis and St.Paul, an hours drive- and the kids usually stayed at one of the three farms that their uncles owned. Sometimes they helped, but mostly they played. Their Uncle Jim, my boss, preferred to have them out of the way. Remember, these are city kids. They wouldn't know which end of the pitch fork to use, and he'd instruct me that under no circumstances, were they to be let on or near the tractors, which made me feel kinda superior to the boys, especially to those who had their driver's licenses and drove their own cars.
Anyhoo, the kids were mostly his nieces who were my age. They would stay around the house and help their Gramma. Of these girls, there was one who was a little large, the only one who paid me any mind (she will be back later). I kinda ignored her. I was more interested in her nice lookin' cousin, who could not remember my name, the snooty little girl. That is, until that afternoon when I saddled up a beautiful buckskin
saddlebred quarter horse named Buddy. I left him tied up where she could see him from the house and then I went back into the barn.
It wasn't long before I heard “Excuse me, is that your horse?”
“He is,” I responded.
”Oh, I'd sure love to ride him.”
“Well, he is kinda a handful, especially if he doesn't know you,” I said. “But I have another mare who is a good rider. She's in the back pasture with Molly an' Dolly. She likes girls!”
“Oh, could I please ride with you?”
“Well, ask your Gram if it's ok.”
Remember the large girl, dear reader. She had been asking for weeks. I had put her off. In those days I was more particular (she will be back later). And stupid me, when it came to girls in those days, my 14 year old testosterone filled male body was of the thinking that If I was nice to the girls it would stand to reason that THEY WOULD RETURN THE FAVOR! Oh, I was Dum de Dum-Dum.
Anyhoo, I was now riding with this beautiful girl, yeehaw. Once we caught the mare she would ride next to me instead of behind me. Getting back to the yard, my boss Jim was standing next to his new '62 Ford dressed in slacks and a sporty looking shirt. He said, “Do you want to go to a baseball game? There's a new team in town called the Twins. It's their first game!”
It was then that my heart skipped a beat, when I heard his niece say “Oh Uncle Jim, I want to keep him for the day. Roy and I have been having so much fun riding.”
“Well, his name is Ray, not Roy, and it's up to him if he wants to go to the ball game.”
I was torn- GIRL, GAME, GAME, GIRL.
“I guess I'll stay here and ride with her for the afternoon.”
“Suit yourself. This is gonna be a historic game. They're giving away hats, bats and balls,” he said.
We rode all afternoon. I heard all about her steady boyfriend. I shoulda went to the ball game! Later, that ol' mare would dump her and head for home at a gallop.
“Oh, I forgot to mention, she can get cantankerous when she is tired.”
That day I learned to say, ”GET YOUR OWN HORSE.”
Remember the big girl? I said she would be back. It was years later I was invited to this swank party- I was the token biker. It was on a rooftop of a place on the West Bank near the U of M. The party was getting to be a drag. This was a yuppie bunch, they liked disco, and so I thought “Phuck This Sheet.”
I was getting ready to leave when the dude who invited me came up and said, “Ray don't leave.”
He had a tall, attractive woman who was smiling at me.
“Hello Ray,” she said.
I stood there, brow wrinkled, trying to recall this woman when the host said “This is Dr. Darlene Mattson.” Picking up my jaw, all I could say was “You wanna go for that ride? My bike's downstairs.”
She laughed and said “You had your chance, Ray.”
She will not be at the 45th class reunion that I am taking Chris (shlepcar) to in a few weeks.
Live To Ride-Ride To Live!
Rat
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