By Joel Langton
The 830 Times
(Publisher’s note: Riding in the Split Rein Trail Ride Saturday, I had many observations that wouldn’t fit into your typical news story. This is an effort to do that in a fun way.)
My friend Miguel Zuniga asked me on a radio show we were both appearing on if I was going to ride in the Split Rein Trail Ride Saturday.
Rather than be honest and say I really haven’t ridden 12 miles on a horse altogether in my life, and the last time I was on a horse was on my honeymoon on a horse so small my feet nearly dragged along the ground, I went a different route. I said, “I’d love to, but I don’t have a horse.”
My logic was, ”Who has extra horses running around in a pasture?” Well, I found out a realtor from Houston named Danny Quinlan does, and he was coming to the trail ride. It was just as easy for him to bring one, two or three horses. So, this greenhorn now had a horse to ride.
After finding the starting point, there was lots of energy. People were riding their horses to warm up, another man was passing out Cowboy Bibles, a DJ was playing music and many were doing basic maintenance on their horses.
I was wandering around talking to people when Zuniga pointed to a truck with a trailer pulling up. “That’s your horse, right there,” he said. I was giddy with anticipation of meeting my four-legged partner for the day.
When Quinlan and I met and he was preparing to introduce me to Magic, he seemed like the world’s nicest guy. Throughout the ride, he consistently did very nice things. I’m pretty sure Zuniga asked Quinlan to keep me from killing myself, so I called him my babysitter throughout the day.
I knew Quinlan even founded a charity called the Navy Seal Danny Dietz Foundation, that helps fallen special operators’ families. They’ve given out more than $1 million to these families.
So, when he was first showing me how to best handle Magic, I didn’t realize he was feeding me a bunch of lies.
“She’s got a very soft mouth — you barely have to touch the reins,” he lied.
“She’s a good horse — she will do exactly what you tell her,” he said.
“Just nudge her in the ribs — she’ll go exactly where you want her,” he said, lying again.
Reality was, Magic was going to do what Magic wanted.
I learned Magic and her two traveling companions were truly best friends and didn’t like being away from each other. I learned this when Quinlan told me to ride her around and get used to her while he brushed the other horses.
My thoughts were we’d go around the trailer and I’d ride through the “camp” and show off my horse riding prowess. After we’d gone around the trailer, Magic had a different idea. She decided we’d go back to see her buddies, and that’s what we did. Touching the reins, nudging the ribs and begging had no effect on her. She rode us around, and we returned to where we started.
Once the ride started, I realized I was riding alongside a highway on a horse that I wasn’t convinced wouldn’t throw me in front of an 18-wheeler. Quinlan showed his nice, non-lying side when he saw me eyeing every vehicle that went by and eased his horse between me and Highway 90. I felt better but still knew if Magic decided to fling me into the middle of the road, that was where I was going.
I realized at some point that cowboys had to have the original Buns of Steel, not some 80s fitness instructor. Someone asked me what it was like sitting on the horse. I said it was like sitting on a jackhammer for four hours.
Another lie of omission Zuniga and Quinlan teamed up on was telling me not to worry — this was his 12-year-old daughter’s horse. What they didn’t tell me is the 12-year-old daughter is a barrel racing champion, so Magic is the horse that helps her get the trophies.
At one point, three riders came past us going against the stream. Magic decided that looked like more fun and decided we were going with them. Thank you again, Danny, for catching us!
Somewhere past the halfway point, Quinlan decided we needed to give the horses a break. Translation: He was afraid my 230 pounds were going to break poor Magic’s back.
I tumbled down off of the horse with my usual finesse, and he asked, “Do your legs hurt?”
“Not at all,” I said as I limped around. “I can’t feel my legs any longer.”
In all truthfulness, it was a fun day. Everyone there was there for the sole purpose of showing support to Border Patrol.
Most of the people were very nice, even the kids who I heard asking, “Why is that man wearing Skechers and riding a horse?” (They weren’t Skechers — they were my running shoes!)
I did improve my horsemanship skills drastically. By the time we got to the soccer field by Walmart, I had figured out if I gently nudged her ribs, she would occasionally go where I begged her to.
I know I’m still wearing the greenhorn label, and probably will be for the rest of my life. However, I’m looking forward to next year’s trail ride, scheduled for Oct. 8. The only thing I’m doing differently is bringing a pillow to put between me and the saddle.
