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

[Trishmare@aol.com]

Dear Howard and Truman,
     Howard, I'm a born and bred Yankee, and I have also spent no small 
amount of time participating in the pagan alternative religion known as Wicca 
(that's Witchcraft to those not up on their new age lingo), which makes me a 
Yankee witch I suppose, and I think y'all both need to come on up here and 
ride in the great white north, in January.  A gater can be outrun or avoided, 
but snowdrifts and negative windchill factors cannot.  Oh . . . before you 
come, I might mention, we do sometimes get s-n-o-w and even i-c-e on our 
roads, that season.  I do realize that Southern cities can be brought to a 
complete standstill if two inches of snow falls (though two feet does not us 
from driving, or riding, for that matter), so I thought I'd better mention it.
     By the way . . . those of you with fire ant problems . . . might want to 
consider moving North.  The supposedly indestructable critters can't survive 
our winters, though gators do not, apparently, seem to faze them . . . (so 
much for the threat gators pose . . .) 

<VBBG>
Trish, Yankee witch
from Grand Blanc (Great White), Michigan

<< 
 In a message dated 11/1/99 9:26:19 AM Eastern Standard Time, 
 truman.prevatt@netsrq.com writes:
 
 << I was thinking to myself that I hope
  the guy riding this horse had rented a "cherry picker" to get in the saddle 
 on
  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 
 this
  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: 
 
 SNAKES & GATORS
 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.  
 
 cya,
 Howard >>


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