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Re: RC: Liberty Run with the kid: Part DONE

In a message dated 11/1/99 9:26:19 AM Eastern Standard Time, writes:

<< I was thinking to myself that I hope
 the guy riding this horse had rented a "cherry picker" to get in the saddle 
 ride morning.  I didn't know it was Howard's at the time but I knew it had 
to a
 male riding him since women tend to ride these itty bitty little horses and 
 was a real man's horse. >>

That statement is so politically incorrect. Even I know better than to go 
there with the ladies if I plan on surviving in this sport.  I hope the women 
flame your retired Vet butt for that one.

<<The only thing that is still a bit puzzling is I am not sure that Howard is 
not a closet 'Nole fan.  Now if he comes back fuming and shooting flames this 
way we'll know for sure that he is a Gator>>

OK, for that remark I'm taking the Gators against the Noles in three weeks, 
no points.  Place your bets here.  And to show how much a Gator I am I've 
enclosed a "short" Gator tale, for those of you who might have missed it.  
Truman, I'm not sure if you're a Gator or a Nole, but I know one thing, You 
ain't no Yankee. If you were, I'd tell you the following: 

by Howard Bramhall

A few weeks ago I took some of my northern in-laws horseback riding.  They 
were extremely green riders and this was their first trip to Florida.  We had 
just finished most of the ride and were on the way back to my barn.  I 
stopped our horses in a swampy area to let them relax and to cool their legs 
in the deep water.  When the horses put their heads down to drink I told 
everyone (this included my brother-in-law, my sister-in-law, and their 
teenage son) to be very quiet and keep still.  I said that the horses were 
smelling for gator.  I went on to explain that horses have a very keen sense 
of smell and can tell if a gator is nearby, up to a hundred yards, and that 
this is what they were doing at this very moment. 

Since I had pointed out one of these reptiles to them earlier during our 
ride, they listened to me quite seriously.  I proceeded to tell them about a 
time last year when I had gone out riding alone and had ended up in this very 
spot.  For no apparent reason, my horse started snorting and became extremely 
agitated.  He started dancing in the water so fast that I thought his legs 
were being attacked by an underwater snake, which happens quite often out 
here in the swamp.  Just when I got my horse under control a big gator comes 
flying out of his deep water hole, straight up, right towards my head.  I was 
in total shock and could not move, glued to my saddle.  I stared right into 
his hungry eyes and knew that my face must be white as a ghost.  His mouth 
opens wide, I become hypnoticed staring at his incredibly sharp teeth, and 
watch his snout snap shut, missing my nose by less than an inch.  I remember 
feeling the breeze created by him doing this and the smell of his breath 
being worse than any outdoor fish market on a hot, summer's day.  I had never 
been more frightened in my entire life.  The splash of this monster hitting 
the water soaks me and the horse and helps me regain my composure.  The horse 
and I race back home for dear life, never looking back.  I will never forget 
seeing the teeth of that gator snapping at my head.

After I finish telling my story, my sister-in-law (I don't like her much, 
she's kind of a witch) freaks out and starts crying and sobbing terribly.  
After a minute or so of doing this, she says to her husband, "I hate Florida. 
 Hurricanes, fires, mosquitoes, humidity, snakes, and now these gators.  Take 
me home now."

So, the next day they packed up their bags and left our house, a week earlier 
than originally planned.  They had decided to go back to Pennsylvania, where 
it was much safer.  As they drove away, my wife turns to me and asks, "What 
happened on that horse ride?"  I told her that if you want the damn Yankees 
to go home you got to tell them a Gator Tale.  


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