GERA ReVisited

[Howard4567@aol.com]

GERA ReVISITED
by Howard Bramhall

I left on a Thursday morning, early but hot here in Central Florida.  I had 
checked on the Atlanta weather and it didn't look like it was going to be 
much cooler up there.  I thought this might be an advantage for me since 
training at my place this time of year is like working out in a steam sauna 
with your clothes on.

I had made a deal with my daughter, Jennifer, to borrow her horse for the 
weekend.  I wanted to complete my first 50.  Y'all might have heard about my 
last try.  I was bound and determined not to have anything close to that 
happening again so I left Dance Line at home and took Rebel.  He's completed 
three 50's successfully with my kid, who weighs 75 lbs but I knew it would be 
different with me, who weighs 180, plus or minus a six pack.

The drive though Atlanta is a nightmare.  As I saw the smog alert sign 
driving past the airport I knew we weren't in Kansas anymore.  Eight lanes of 
constant traffic and every one of them wanting to get by me and then cut in 
front of my truck and hit their brakes.  Since I haven't gotten around to 
hooking up my brakes in my horse trailer they have no idea how close to death 
they're coming when they decide to do that in front of my rig.

I was driving to Dawson Forest from memory.  This was the first ride for me 
that I had actually already done so I thought I knew the way there.  Then I 
just remembered that I missed my exit and had no clue how to correct my 
mistake.  I get off at one of the downtown exits (Peach Street, I think) just 
to get off the crazy interstate and try and head east.  At the red lights I 
pull out my map and see if I can atleast get going in the right direction.  
Horns blast at me when the light turns green, I throw my map to the side and 
hope these nice Georgia people can be a little patient with this lost Florida 
cracker who has no sense of direction whatsoever in the big city.  Some of 
the drivers pass me and wave to me with their middle finger extended hoping I 
have a nice day.  I really need to get rid of that GO GATORS bumper sticker 
when I'm driving out of state.

I finally find a road that looks familiar and eventually gets me to the 
campground.  I just love going up and down the hills on the final stretch of 
road to the site.  They seem like mountain roads, foreign territory.  

Arriving early is always a good thing, you get to pick a good spot where you 
have lots of shade.  I see Randy and Bernie and park close to them.  Since 
I'm not the most popular guy in the world it's nice to have a couple of 
buddies who can tolerate your company for 3 or 4 days.  As I pull in I 
realize I'm going to miss not having Jennifer with me.  The last time I went 
to a ride without her was this very one exactly a year ago.

I continue to bring too much stuff to these things.  Enough food for ten 
people, tack for three horses and a tent that sleeps six.  I even started 
bringing my portable toilet, the one that's from my boat.  I hide this luxury 
and slip it in the tack room under the saddles.  Every pleasure amenity I can 
think of is packed away somewhere, either in my truck or in my horse trailer, 
except for my mistress, my blow up doll.

AUTHOR's NOTE:  I may say something offensive in my story.  Reader beware.  
It's rated PG15.  If you live in the deep south you may rate it X.

So I unhook, make the portable corral and unload Rebel.  He's making those 
noises to let everyone know he's arrived.  If you aren't ready for it and he 
does it in your ear in the horse trailer you'll know how he got his nickname. 
 His silly Arab name is Makhsouss and I don't have a clue as to what it means 
(if anything).

I have my first beer.  I earned it from surviving the Atlanta traffic.  Just 
before getting in town I had a near death experience (Rebel did too but he 
doesn't know it) with a Ford minivan who blew a tire (I bet it was a 
Firestone) right in front of me off to my right.  I swerved left, just by 
chance, to avoid the tire flying towards me.  The tire literally exploded off 
the Ford's left rear a hundred or so yards in front just towards the right.  
As I went left I saw the van do a 90 degree turn, hit the right guard rail, 
continue spinning and headed right at me. He was doing a 360 spin.  

I went off to the left as far as I could go and I saw the man's face as he 
headed towards me, then paralleled me, for my near Death experience.  I saw 
the whites of his wide opened eyes and his mouth formed a big O that said 
total fear.  The Devil was sitting in the back row right over the left rear 
tire with a big smile on his face.  Death was sitting in the middle row with 
his left hand on the right shoulder of the driver trying to calm him down.  
Death never smiles.

The van continued the 360 turn to my right and missed me by inches.  There 
was a Big Semi headed right for the van.  I watched it all through my right 
outside mirror.  The van hit the guard rail again and the truck stopped, what 
looked to be just in time.  A few cars got around the van but most of the 
traffic on the Interstate behind me came to a dead stop.  There was no place 
for me to pull over since I was still in the city and I just kept going.  I 
looked up and thanked God for saving me and my horse.  How I went left there 
was a total gift from somewhere in the Spirit World, cause if I had made a 
right turn, me and my horse just might be dead.  At least if I died with 
Rebel nobody could tell me that I killed my horse to my living face, a 
comforting thought.