(Not to be confused with Short Bus, the new sex movie starring Sook-Yin Lee, the boundlessly smart and charming VJ/DJ/musician/actress.)
Before I begin my tale, I’d like to send out a huge thanks to Donna Kane, poet and cultural maven, who organized my trip to Dawson Creek as part of the Writing on the Ridge series that she organizes, as well as Rosaleen Ward from Hudson’s Hope, and everyone in both communities for their hospitality. It was much appreciated. The Peace Country is well-named.
Okay, the story.
Not long ago, a friend who prefers to remain nameless, and I purchased a used horse trailer. We wanted the ability to take out horses to different rings and particularly, in my case, transport Tango to trails.
We found a very serviceable, if not particularly young, trailer in Langley at a reasonable price. A few weeks ago we pulled it home. And last weekend, after getting the truck ready, we prepared to take the horses on their first adventure.
We use our truck to pull the trailer, so I thought I’d get to the barn a bit early to practice my trailer driving. I hooked up the trailer and headed down the road, feeling every inch the competent horsewoman who confidently pulls a horse trailer. I mean, what else was I supposed to think?
All went beautifully until I went to turn the corner about a block away from the barn. The trailer brakes locked up as I was turning left and the truck and trailer were left marooned in the middle of the road. The damn thing was stuck.
I tried everything. Turning down the brakes, backing up, four-wheel drive. Nothing worked. Finally, I called the other people at the barn and asked them to come and help me. I was no longer the competent horse trailer-driving horse woman. I was the useless ass stuck in the middle of the road for no apparent reason.
Soon the ladies from the barn arrived and we discussed what the problem might be. We did not have any ideas. Not even faint ones. A young man in a truck stopped to help and he pointed out that I’d pulled out the emergency pin that locks up the horse trailer. He fiddled a bit and soon I was on my way again, confidence firmly dislodged and hanging by a threat from my hip pocket.
Thanks to the auspicious start to our first trip, I decided it might be best to return immediately to the barn.
There, I considered hat I might not be quite ready to actually drive horses anywhere. But I kept my concerns to myself. The worst had happened. It could only get better.
Then came time to load up the horses. Tango was first. When I bought him, he’d proved himself not just willing, but anxious, to get in the trailer. In fact, I seem to recall him LEAPING into the trailer. I guess he was enthusiastic about coming home with me. And who wouldn’t be? After all, I showed strong signs even then of being a competent horse trailer driving woman.
Sadly, something shifted in Tango over the last year and a half. It turns out his feelings about traveling around in trailers have changed. A lot.
I announced to everyone that Tango was “a dream to load”. That he’d walk right in. That it would mostly be a matter of slowing him down, so excited he would be to go for a trip with me captaining the ship.
And initially, it seemed my braggy-pants talk was correct. He leapt into the trailer, apparently found it wanting, and leapt right back out. Have I mentioned that Tango is a 16.3 hands high and a generous 1300 pounds? Trying to change his mind wasn’t easy. It wasn’t like getting your stubborn miniature pinscher dog into the car or your nervous cat into her carrying case. It was like trying to fit a giant cork into tiny bottle. He simply wouldn not go. We surrounded him on all sides. Someone inside the trailer, someone on each side of his firmly planted behind. Those in front waved treats such as apples and hay and carrots. He would creep in, as well as a 1300 pound horse can creep, grab the apple, then retreat briskly.
I tried placing each of his feet on the ramp. He allowed me to do this, then quickly unplaced them back on the ground.
“I’m sorry!” I said, losing credibility faster than Tom Cruise on Oprah. “I’m really sorry. He used to be so good!”
Tune in next time to find out the conclusion of Short Haul, a Minor Tragedy. Or at least, a Major Headache.