麻豆传媒AV

The adrenaline rush from a galloping horse, beneath my ass and between my legs, would not immediately announce me as even a partial cowboy. Rather, for a four-day trail ride in Saskatchewan I would, in all modest facetiousness, be fondly dubbed the City Slicker (that name was self-proclaimed).

The slight adventure, as I would verify it being, began when my father, Mr. William Joseph, asked if I would be interested in joining a troupe. What else would my answer have been? Of course I would join this raggedy band of merry pranksters, Saskatchewan cowboys.

My father's neighbour, Ken, would be joining us on that ride near Big River. He is a big man, at least six feet tall. Off the side of his garage, attached to his home, he has an extra room where he keeps gear for horses - bridles, bits, things I can't name and pack boxes. Those pack boxes are important to note. Not Ken's pack boxes exactly, but there would be a few dips and wobbles in our ride, averted catastrophes, that involved pack boxes. My eyes would be wide when that event unfolded.

In the end, including Ken, my father and I, there would be five of us. Twenty kilometres outside of Big River, and right up next to the Prince Albert National Park, we would ride out to a small uninhabited lake, near the ruins of an early 20th century homestead. We would camp, I would drink Royal Red with a man named George, and we would settle into a routine of daily rides, camp food and camp tents under open prairie skies.

We left mid-morning on a June 16. I remember the weather being mild, but we had just seen a stint of weather in the previous week with days of rain that threatened to leak into our riding schedule. So far, there was no immediate threat and the skies were clear; the day was dry. The prior week's wetness had left us in good condition, so we headed out towards Glaslyn, around 65 kilometres north of the Battlefords.

Along the way, we met George at the side of Highway 4. We pulled over. I had been in the back seat of my father's 2008 Chevrolet Avalanche, but I would be moving up in the world. Ken opened the door and moved from his seat. Now, it would be my father and I in one vehicle and George and Ken in another.

Ken got out, made appropriate greetings with George. They chatted for a bit, about what God only knows (I was out of earshot), and after maybe 10 minutes we were all on our way. George was driving a big Dodge farm truck and was hauling a stock trailer with two horses aboard - two Appaloosas. We were pulling a trailer, too. In our trailer were my Dad's horse Ginger, Ken's horse Pepper and the one I would ride, called Deuce.

Deuce was the horse of Leonard. Leonard is a good friend of the family. Leonard had suffered a hernia about a month before and after the surgery he was not able to make the trip. In his absence I took that recently open spot. They say luck is when preparation meets opportunity, but in this case it would be just me that met with the opportunity. I was not prepared for the comical and other events ahead.

I suppose no one expected me to be able to ride a horse. I wasn't sure I would make it out with a smile on my face. There were warnings my ass would be sore after being on a horse for that many days straight.

Our first hitch of the trip came when we pulled over to take lunch in Spiritwood. George and Ken had been trying to call us, but my Dad had turned his iPhone to silent and it found its way to a place where the vibrating went unnoticed. Ken and George had phoned to tell us our trailer had been smoking.

One of the trailer's passenger-side wheel bearings smoked out behind us as we drove down the highway. To say the least, my Dad was not impressed and he got that old look on his face, the one that says he's pissed off.

Luckily for us, Spiritwood was the home of a farm machinery dealership that he used to own and manage. With his business skills, and gift for gab, he pulled over into the Case IH yard and was soon chatting with some mechanics he found outside. We grabbed lunch at a nearby diner while the wheel bearing was being replaced.

This was my idea of luck; when preparation meets opportunity or, in our case, when one smoking wheel bearing meets my father's networking skills.

After the brief meal of hamburgers and fries, we headed off towards Wendell's yard.

When we pulled in, there was the proverbial amount of farm dogs and cats. I saw two dogs right away. They came, tongues hanging out of their mouths, right up to greet us. I'm sure we all know what that is like, those dogs that are eager, but annoying because we fear we'll somehow run over them. We love them because they get too close. I also think I saw at least one cat around.

Wendell was in the yard working on a piece of machinery with his son-in-law. The scenario was typical of a sit-com scene that I could imagine in my own entertaining mind. I got the feeling the son-in-law was obviously of a different generation; I could almost hear Wendell say, "They don't make them like they used to." The tension of family relationships is always interesting.

I also caught a peek of his daughter from far off across a field; she was working in her yard. I could see why Wendell was so concerned that most men were not good enough for his flesh and blood. If I had my binoculars I could have given you a definite answer, but she looked good from afar, good enough to pique my interest. I never thought good looking girls lived this far out in the country. I'm sure it was just a trick of the distance, like seeing a mirage when you're stuck in the desert. Damn son-in-law, I thought along with Wendell and laughed on the inside.

The old men stood around and chatted, like they always do. Wendell found me a slicker to wear in case it rained. My Dad would teach me how to tie that slicker and my sleeping bag up on the horse and behind my saddle.

I would always be pulling and readjusting that roll up and on the ass of that horse. It's because a horse's rear end, when it walks, wags like a women with a great ass that's really trying to get your attention. My horse wanted to wag that bundle right off the side more than once. It occupied a bit of my time, but at least I never ended up being bucked off. My father and Ken would cover that mishap for me.

To be continued