Thursday, August 31, 2006
Can I have a pony for Christmas?
Does every father of a little girl eventually hear that question? I definitely went through my phase. I got a horse book for my birthday. Then I saw the Black Stallion at the theater. Then the first book I actually read through all by myself was a book about a pony. The book was 64 pages. I was so proud. My love of horses led to the inevitable conclusion...I needed a horse. So I asked for one for Christmas.

Dad tackled my folly head on. Where would we put a horse? What would we feed a horse? Where are you going to ride a horse? Questions, questions, questions. I don't know, Dad, that's your department. He pretty well convinced me that a horse was out of the question.

Yet, you gotta have hope. So I kept my secret wish to myself. On Christmas morning I came downstairs and this is what I found...



OK, it's probably not a horse, but what is it? Any guesses?

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It's the logical gift for a girl who wants a horse but can't shelter one.




As a nine year-old I was a bit overwhelmed. Uh, yay! Uh, am I supposed to drive that? The answer was yes. It was an unseasonably warm Christmas day so after breakfast we took the motorcycle outside to try it out. No kidding, I was scared shitless. Dad tried to explain to me how the clutch system and brakes worked. Ah...OK. I had no clue. I have no idea how many stops and starts we went through in the yard. I could gear up, no problem. It was stopping without cutting the engine that I had a problem with. When I'd get going I'd never want to stop because I knew I'd kill the engine and get fussed at. I just couldn't get it. Then I really got in trouble.

Dad said, ride around the yard, but I don't want you going up the golf course. So I rode around the yard a bunch of times, but that's just doing circles. I wanted to open it up a little bit. So I took off up the golf course. Now this was the rough, mind you, not the actual fairway. When I came back to the yard and the engine died Dad was pissed. Really pissed. See, I mentioned that it had been unseasonably warm, that meant the ground was soft and damp from the recent rains. So when I went up the rough of the golf course I laid a nice long furrow. I can remember Dad out there stomping down both sides of my tracks to try to cover the mess I had made. I think that ended our lesson on Christmas day.

It was a couple of years before I fully appreciated that gift, before I became comfortable with it and truly enjoyed it.
Written at 8:11 PM by Highlandgal.
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