My Punishment-Scars

I have been reminded by 2 different people over the last couple of weeks that I have been languishing in my updates. So as my punishment I am going to tell a story on myself and how we can still be young at heart, that a little blood never hurt anyone...and sometimes scars are funny.

It was a nice night in Giddings, Texas. The weather was what you would expect from a Central Texas spring evening and I was glad to be out and about in it. I was entered at the last performance of the CPRA rodeo in Giddings and since I was in the area, I drove to Conly and Lori Donnell's house in Caldwell the day before to hang out. Conly and Lori decided to ride along with me to the rodeo and Walter (Conly's brother) and his wife Karly came along too. They had already roped at the rodeo, but since it was a Saturday night and there was a dance after the rodeo we all decided we would stick around afterward and check out the band.

I didn't win anything at the rodeo and in an effort to drown my sorrows, I unsaddled my horse and we went to the dance which was right across the parking lot. Fast forward about 3 hours....3 hours of telling stories with Conly and Walter while drinking beer and listening to music...maybe drinking a little too much beer. When the band finished playing we stood right at the edge of the pavilion and surveyed the scene before us. I can remember it like it was yesterday because the whole area in front of us was drowned in that orange glow of the old fashioned sodium security lights. As I squinted my eyes I could see something at the far edge of the light that caught my attention. I turned to Conly and Walter and said,"You see that bucking machine over there? Our destiny has just been revealed to us." They agreed.

The walk across the lot towards the bucking machine was not very far, but it was far enough for us to talk each other into how awesome our bull riding skills were. I don't know about anyone else, but when I walked up to the padded area around that bull I was sure no one had ever seen someone put a ride on a mechanical bull like I was about to. This from a guy who didn't win anything in the team roping that night....and hadn't won much in a while...I was determined to win at something. Too determined.

We approached the man who owned the machine and told him we were some of the finest and most highly trained mechanical bull riders that ever wore a nickel pair of socks. We told him that his bull would lay defeated in ruins before us and that the crowd was in for a treat. We clearly had consumed too much beer. By this time there was a pretty good crowd gathered around since the dance was over. Evidently we weren't the only ones who had the same idea. The owner decided to make an example.

We decided between the 3 of us to ride for bragging rights. Conly went first. The bucking machine operator made it fairly hard and Conly made a pretty good ride. He made it for the 8 seconds anyway and jumped off victorious. Walker was next.

I am not a Bull Rider. I am not a bucking horse rider and my record will clearly reflect that. Just ask my Dad. I mounted up on the mechanical bull and wedged my riding glove (a glove you would use to fix fence) into the handhold. I set my feet and waved my hand. We began our dance.

The first few jumps I remember being in pretty good shape. I think he was going to give me the same pattern he gave Conly, as a gesture of mercy. I was a better rider than that....the beer told me so. About the third jump I opened up with my right leg and spurred the machine making a loud thump. The rest is blurry. All I know for sure is that the setting I WAS on must have been "newly born milk calf", or "baby deer ride" and the setting I received after my spurring job was more along the lines of "Red Rock, the devil's own bucking bull, destroys team roper with too much beer for the delight of the crowd". I was horrible. I got whipped down, which means that my feet ended up behind me and my face somehow collided with the plastic head of the mechanical bull. From there I fell off to the side and the bull continued to buck while my hand was still hung up in the rigging. It happened instantly and without notice.

When the dust settled, and I regained vision, I was standing on my feet alongside the bull with my hand still in the rigging. Conly had come out of the crowd and was down in front of the fake bull waving his hat in the bull's face trying to save me from the impending hooking I should have taken. The crowd was enjoying themselves immensely and after I saw Conly I started laughing too. I got my hand out of the rigging and we gathered up outside the padded area laughing so hard we were almost in tears. I can admit now that I was a little loopy, either from the beer or from being whipped down by "Red Rock, the devil's own bucking bull", which one I'm not sure, but it took me a few minutes to get my bearings back.

Walter rode next and he made a pretty good ride. I think he and Conly tied for bragging rights over me which we didn't need a judge to figure out. My slump of not winning continued. After the bull riding competition we made our way over to the hot dog vendor who was still open after the rodeo and ordered up some hot dogs. While I was ordering I noticed the lady who was taking my order kept looking at me funny. I didn't think anything of it because people look at me funny all the time either from something I've said, or something I've done. It wasn't until I turned around that I realized why. Lori and Karly pointed out to me that I was bleeding. "Aw, heck it can't be that bad." No....like really bleeding. I felt my face right under my jawbone and sure enough...huh, blood. Then I looked down and found that it had been running down my neck a little and my shirt had been soaking it up. No wonder hot dog lady gave me that look.

The next morning I woke up at Conly and Lori's to find something a little more serious. After closer inspection I found that there was a hole in my neck about the size of a #2 pencil eraser. Great....I had a Monday morning bank meeting to attend. That would be fun. All in all, I guess it wasn't that bad. I should probably have gone to get a stitch or two because I now have a scar on my neck where whiskers don't grow anymore, but that's where the good stories come from. :)

Max Stalling says that "life's mostly scars and souvenirs". Somehow, I happen to have a few of both.


Walker