Liberty Run II & the kid: Part Two

[Howard4567@aol.com]

So, where was I?  Oh, I remember now.  I was out of beer.  Well, I found 
some, so .....

I went back to the rig and parked next to Bernie.  As Jennifer and I started 
setting up the portable corral, I kept my eyes on Bernie to see if he was 
going to pay me back for sparking his hand like I did.  But he just made some 
comments on how poorly Jen and I were doing, drank some coffee (didn't offer 
me any; I guess he was a little mad at me) and then walked off to find some 
other folks to bother.  Bernie is single (and yes, I do have his phone 
number, for a price; he's also a farrier)  and his girlfriend wasn't with him 
this trip, sooooo.........

I'm not single.  Happily married, I must say.  Just ask my daughter Jennifer, 
she'll tell you.  "My Daddy just loves my Mommie, so if I see him talking to 
any other ladies here at ridecamp I'm allowed to go up and tell them that 
anytime."  Haha.  Kids are great, and if you don't have any and want to 
borrow one at your next endurance race, just give me a call.

Well, I won't repeat what I've said in past reports, but let's just say, we 
put up the corral, put the horses in, set up the tent, pumped up the air 
mattress,  my kid found a friend to play with, and the OLE man took a nap.  
And, no, he didn't have any beer.  Way too early.  Besides, the kid's with me 
and she knows drinking beer at 8 in the morning (and it doesn't matter if 
you've been drivng all night) is not a normal thing and has a really big 
mouth.  And the suckie thing is I have to sneak a smoke cause the kid freaks 
out on me when she thinks she smells something burning.  I can't tell you how 
many times I thought she was asleep, on the drive out here, and lit up a 
smoke, only to hear from the back of the cab, "Daddy, I smell something 
burning."  "It's only the diesel Jennifer, go back to sleep."  Geezzzzz, 
Louise.   So, as Jen wanders off to play with a friend, I light up a smoke 
and then hit the air mattress.  At my age I shouldn't have to sneak shit.  
(Horse & Pony: don't forget to edit that last word there.)

Before I tell you how things went after I woke up, let me throw in here that 
I'm not an irresponsible parent for letting my daughter wander off with a 
total stranger (she was ten and I met her at my last Georgia ride) while I 
smoke and take a much needed nap (driving thru the nite can tire you out more 
than anything).  These endurance camps are about as safe as living in 
Switzerland and it's the only camping area (ha, that's easy I never camp 
anywhere else anyhow) I'll let my daughter wander about without me keeping an 
eye on her.  Now, she is almost 11, and if she were 6 or 7 I wouldn't take 
her with me.  But for kids her age this experience is one that she will 
remember for the rest of her life and I plan (and so does the wife) on taking 
her with me to quite a few more.  Plus, she's a rider, so she has just as 
much right to be here as any adult (I keep waiting for them to kick me out, 
for being such a Rebel).   I hope all the rides continue to be as safe as the 
ones I've been to so far.  Now the horses, that's a different story, there's 
always danger there, but I know she knows that.  It's those weirdo people 
that should not be out of doors, but are, that I worry about.   I have yet to 
spot any at these rides.  Everybody seems to know everybody.  That doesn't 
mean they all love each other, but they do seem to know who all the players 
are.

OK, I'm probably a little over protective (in my own fashion), but that's 
better than being unprotective; don't you think?  Anyhow, I woke up and found 
myself tied up like a calf at a rodeo.  My hands and legs were all wrapped up 
in some rope that I had never seen before, my arms were numb (I guess the 
circulation was cut off) and I think I had a few rope burns on my ankles.  
Gee, I wonder how this could have happened??????  I start screaming from my 
tent, "BERNIEEEEEEEEE, BERNIEEEEEEEEE."  I hear a couple guys giggling 
outside my tent.  Man, I'm giving up the practical jokes, I swear I am.

Bernie and Randy are just laughing their asses off.  Randy says, "Man, you 
were snoring the whole time we were tying you up, and we were laughing so 
hard while we were doing it to you, I just can't believe you stayed asleep 
thru it all."  Ha ha.  OK, guys, now let me out and we'll call it even (yea, 
right).  Bernie says, "Well, it's bad enough that you threw mud in my face 
with that Wilt Chamberlain Horse you got at that GERA ride, but when you 
zapped my hand this morning I just knew I had to get even with your Gator 
butt."

"Alright Bernie, we're even, and I'll never kick mud in your face or zap you 
with the electric again.  Now can you please untie me?"  So they did.  And 
then they backed away quick, like I might jump on them or something.  But, of 
course, meek little OLE me didn't do a thing (I'm not totally stupid, I knew 
either one of them could kick my ass.)   Randy gave me a cup of coffee (I 
think something else was in it, but I sure didn't mind) and the three of us 
talked.  He told me his wife had to work today and wouldn't be around till 
later.  We just sat around and watched all the rigs pull in.  The place was 
filling up quickly.  Someone had told Bernie that over 170 riders were gonna 
be here by the end of the day.  This would be the biggest ride I had ever 
been to so far.  And guess who is coming??????  My heroine (even though I've 
never met her, I've seen her on TV)  Valerie Kanavy.  I just want to give 
that short, tuff, solid woman a great big hug.  Think she'll mind (she's 
never met me, poor thing)???  I would make it my quest this weekend to talk 
to and touch the celebrity of endurance riding, even if I had to go through 
body guards and smelly Arabs (I bet that last remark gets me into trouble) to 
do so.

Alright, I'm taking a break here.  Now please, fellow ridecampers, I have a 
fragile ego, and not many of you told me you even read the first part of this 
story, so just send me an email with one word on it like,  "continue", or 
"party on, dude" or "you're so weird" (I really like that one).  Just say 
something, otherwise I'm just gonna send it to H&P and hope for another 
year's renewal on my subscription (they don't pay $$$$).  For you non 
southerners (actually non Floridians or non Georgians) H&P is a newspaper 
called Horse and Pony that is actually crazy enough to publish my crap.

cya,
Howard, aka Rookie Rider (for two more months)




 


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