horsing around
I usually talk about my dogs or my cat in my blog, but today I have to talk about a recent experience with my mom and her crazy scheme to get two horses from Colorado to Arkansas. Since I've grown up around horses, they are a part of my life and worth talking about.
Months ago, I got a voicemail from my mother with a reference to Operation Clydesdale and to call her back. I was intrigued by the codeword and mystery she was putting into this scheme, so I called her back. My mother was afraid for the safety of two of her former horses that were left with my former step-father. I won't go into the mistakes he made, but he was willing to give over care of the horses to my mother. When I saw him this weekend, I saw that he couldn't physically take care of the horses. (I am even afraid that he can't take care of himself since his health has declined that much.) So, I think this was the best thing to happen for everyone concerned.
The operation unfolded like this. I first drove 275 miles down to Oklahoma City to meet up with my mother who had bought a F250 with 230K miles on it. She was picking up a trailer in Oklahoma City that she also had bought. She only had driven a vehicle with a trailer once in her life and it was a bad enough of an experience for her that she wasn't going to do it again. Hence why I was drafted for the operation. We left my car at the trailer dealership.
Our plan was to drive to Calhan, Colorado to stay the night. Instead at about Arriba, Colorado (565 miles from Oklahoma City), the truck broke down. We were towed to Limon where repairs started the next morning. A little after noon, we were told the initial repairs (a pulley and the engine belt had broke) were done. They then discovered a problem with a fuel injector and would take a few hours to fix. Needless to say, we were late picking up the horses another 40 miles away.
At first, things looked good. My former step-father was giving us a cart and provided ramps to load that into the pickup. The first horse was loaded into the trailer with little coaxing. Then I was called over to help with the second horse. It absolutely did not want to even be haltered. We had to corner it before it settled enough to get the halter on. We then were able to take the horse to the trailer. I'm not sure how long it took to get the horse in the trailer, but it was now getting late.
The next leg of the operation was supposed to take us back to Salina, Kansas where we could keep the horses overnight in a horse motel. We now estimated that it would be past midnight before we arrived, much to the consternation of the hotel owner. We opted for a horse motel near Edson, Kansas (not far from Goodland). It was about 155 miles down the road from my former step-father's place.
The next day, it took twenty minutes to load both horses. The first went right in, but not the second. We then booked it 475 miles to Oklahoma City where I ditched my mother so that she could drive my car on from there. We put in another 265 miles on our way to Russellville, Arkansas. The horses stayed the night at a vet clinic since it was too late for them to learn the layout of their new pasture.
Finally, on day four of the operation, the Clydesdales made another trek. This time it didn't take near as long to load them up. Then they got to roam free in their new three acre pasture. It was a bit drizzly when we let them out this last time.
Then next day, I drove another 450 miles back home. Total, I drove 2,225 miles. How is that for horsing around?
Before Operation Clydesdale, I also spent a weekend camping, boating, fishing, and swimming at the lake. My writing hasn't progressed very far this month due to all of these distractions. I also haven't had the time to meet with one of my writing groups and that really sucks.
I need to quit horsing around and get back on track to get things done. I think my mother is happy with her two horses, so I don't think I'll be drafted for another operation too soon.
Months ago, I got a voicemail from my mother with a reference to Operation Clydesdale and to call her back. I was intrigued by the codeword and mystery she was putting into this scheme, so I called her back. My mother was afraid for the safety of two of her former horses that were left with my former step-father. I won't go into the mistakes he made, but he was willing to give over care of the horses to my mother. When I saw him this weekend, I saw that he couldn't physically take care of the horses. (I am even afraid that he can't take care of himself since his health has declined that much.) So, I think this was the best thing to happen for everyone concerned.
The operation unfolded like this. I first drove 275 miles down to Oklahoma City to meet up with my mother who had bought a F250 with 230K miles on it. She was picking up a trailer in Oklahoma City that she also had bought. She only had driven a vehicle with a trailer once in her life and it was a bad enough of an experience for her that she wasn't going to do it again. Hence why I was drafted for the operation. We left my car at the trailer dealership.
Our plan was to drive to Calhan, Colorado to stay the night. Instead at about Arriba, Colorado (565 miles from Oklahoma City), the truck broke down. We were towed to Limon where repairs started the next morning. A little after noon, we were told the initial repairs (a pulley and the engine belt had broke) were done. They then discovered a problem with a fuel injector and would take a few hours to fix. Needless to say, we were late picking up the horses another 40 miles away.
At first, things looked good. My former step-father was giving us a cart and provided ramps to load that into the pickup. The first horse was loaded into the trailer with little coaxing. Then I was called over to help with the second horse. It absolutely did not want to even be haltered. We had to corner it before it settled enough to get the halter on. We then were able to take the horse to the trailer. I'm not sure how long it took to get the horse in the trailer, but it was now getting late.
The next leg of the operation was supposed to take us back to Salina, Kansas where we could keep the horses overnight in a horse motel. We now estimated that it would be past midnight before we arrived, much to the consternation of the hotel owner. We opted for a horse motel near Edson, Kansas (not far from Goodland). It was about 155 miles down the road from my former step-father's place.
The next day, it took twenty minutes to load both horses. The first went right in, but not the second. We then booked it 475 miles to Oklahoma City where I ditched my mother so that she could drive my car on from there. We put in another 265 miles on our way to Russellville, Arkansas. The horses stayed the night at a vet clinic since it was too late for them to learn the layout of their new pasture.
Finally, on day four of the operation, the Clydesdales made another trek. This time it didn't take near as long to load them up. Then they got to roam free in their new three acre pasture. It was a bit drizzly when we let them out this last time.
Then next day, I drove another 450 miles back home. Total, I drove 2,225 miles. How is that for horsing around?
Before Operation Clydesdale, I also spent a weekend camping, boating, fishing, and swimming at the lake. My writing hasn't progressed very far this month due to all of these distractions. I also haven't had the time to meet with one of my writing groups and that really sucks.
I need to quit horsing around and get back on track to get things done. I think my mother is happy with her two horses, so I don't think I'll be drafted for another operation too soon.
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