In 1976 I experienced culture shock when I moved from Brooklyn, New York to Portland, Oregon. It was while interviewing for jobs that I met and became friends with Al T. Al was an interesting guy who loved the country and had a small ranch where he raised beef for his own consumption and quarter horses as a hobby.
Al always liked a challenge and decided to teach a “City Boy” to ride a horse. Every weekend my wife, daughter and I would drive to Molalla, Oregon to the ranch.
I’m a pretty fast learner and loved to ride and was getting pretty good. Being your BSP (Basic Short Person) my usual way of mounting my horse was to walk it to the fence, then I would climb up the fence and mount my horse. Pretty soon I was doing some pretty nifty horse back ridding to the point that Al T. wanted to show me off to his friends and that a “City Boy” can ride a horse.
A few months later we got an invitation to a Ranch BBQ Party at Al’s home. We RSVP’d and went shopping. I bought cowboy boots, and a cowboy hat, and a belt buckle the size of a manhole cover, real cowboy jeans, I even had a blue cowboy shirt with mother of pearl snap buttons..
Not wanting to look like a wimp I wasn’t about to mount the horse in my usual way. No, I wanted to “show off” for Al’s sake. After all Al and his wife Stephie really put a lot of energy into teaching me how to ride a horse.
As I strutted over to the horse I noticed people starting to watch me. I moseyed over to the left side of the horse and placed my left foot in the left stirrup. I grabbed the horn with both hands, bounced gingerly on my right leg and tried to fling my right leg over the horse with my right leg sliding into the right stirrup.
One, two, three, JUMP! I didn’t make it! One, two three JUMP! I didn’t make it. One, two three, JUMP!
Not only did my right leg make it over the saddle, my but so did my right arm, my right butt cheek, then my torso, then my head!
Just when I thought nothing else could go wrong my left foot feels an incredible jerk in the left stirrup.
I’m now dangling upside down with about 50 people staring at me and laughing hysterically.
Dangerous situation as I lie there hanging upside down and losing the tack. I was terrified that the horse was going to take of on a mad gallop.
Instead the horse turned around and looked at me hanging there upside down. Next thing I know there is a huge wet tongue licking my face.
From that day forward I have always been known as the “Brooklyn Cowboy”.
(See Photo “Brooklyn Cowboy”)