wow! u rock star! --- On Fri, 26/6/09, Dan Glover <[email protected]> wrote:
> From: Dan Glover <[email protected]> > Subject: [MD] The Coldest Winter... > To: [email protected] > Received: Friday, 26 June, 2009, 1:33 PM > > > > The coldest winter I ever spent was the summer I spent in > Mendocino. Between the ragings of the ocean and the cool > dampness washing over the sand duned seaside cliffs and days > upon days without a hint of sunshine, I near froze to death > in the middle of June. > > It was 1971 and I was 16 years old going on 30. I'd been > drifting west ever since leaving my home in Illinois in the > back of a pick up truck with $54 in my pocket and an old > beat-up acoustic guitar strapped to my back. I hadn't a lick > of sense but by god I was going to make it big in > California. I didn't like big cities though so when I picked > my destination I chose a little town on the northern coast > called Mendocino. I liked the name. > > I lied about my age to the man who owned the place and got > a gig playing in between acts at the only watering hole in > town at that time. Customers there were mostly hippies and > biker types who liked the easy going style I'd grown up > playing by imitating Simon and Garfunkel and Bob Dylan and > Arlo Guthrie. There was always a smell of marijuana in the > air. I loved it. > > I didn't make anything playing but if I put out my black > cowboy hat on the stage the customers would sometimes throw > some spare change into it and sometimes even a dollar bill > or two. One night I found a fiver in there and I was in > heaven... I could rent a motel room for $5 and take a shower > and sleep in a bed instead of out in the sand dunes by the > ocean where I usually slept. > > I read in the local newspaper of a rodeo in the next big > town down the pike (at least I remember it being the next > big town down) called Fort Bragg. The ad said they'd pay > anyone $100 to ride a bull for 10 seconds. I thought, hell, > I can stay on a bull for that long. So I hitched a ride up > there for the weekend, bringing along my sleeping bag, my > guitar, and a small backpack that contained everything I > owned in the whole world. > > I got to the rodeo grounds late Friday afternoon. There > were cowboys everywhere and more showing up all the time. > There was a tent set up in a clearing of trees with a table > underneath the tent and a sign blowing in the wind that > said: All Riders -- Sign Up Here. So I walked up there and > told the pretty woman behind the table that I wanted to sign > up to ride the $100 bull. > > She smiled at me and handed me a paper and told me to read > it and sign at the bottom. It was a disclaimer in case I got > hurt. She asked if I had any experience and I lied and told > her yes, I did. I told her I worked on a ranch about fifty > miles to the east. She nodded and handed me a white flag > with a black number on it to tie on my back and told me to > be there at noon tomorrow. > > After signing up for the bull ride, I wandered around the > camp. There was a barrel of beer surrounded by bags of ice > and a stack of cups beside it. I watched several cowboys > walk up to it and draw themselves glasses of beer, then walk > off. I figured it must be free so I went over and helped > myself too. After 3 or 4 glasses of beer I started to feel > pretty good about my chances tomorrow. But then I walked > down to where they kept the bulls. > > Holy Christ in Heaven I'd never seen such vicious and > ornery animals in my life. Mean-looking little kids were > poking at the bulls' rumps with long sharp sticks and those > bulls were red-eyed and furious, which just made the kids > poke at them all the more. Those animals were bucking and > broncing and snorting and prancing around just looking for > something to stomp into the ground and kill. A group of > cowboys were sitting on a nearby tree stump laughing at the > sight. I damn near died right then and there. > > I didn't sleep well that night. I'd drank too much free > beer and the whole world was spinning and there was cold > wind blowing that my sleeping bag wouldn't keep at bay. I > got up and puked several times. It made me feel a little > better but still not good. I woke at dawn with a horrible > headache and a foul taste in my mouth that brushing my teeth > wouldn't wash away. I wandered around camp until I saw a > table with food on it. When no one was looking I grabbed a > couple donuts and a cup of black coffee and slunk off to > eat, hoping I could keep it down. > > By 9am I was feeling considerably better. I walked over to > the corral holding the flag the pretty woman had given me > the day before. An old grizzled looking cowboy with snow > white hair sitting at the table where she'd sat looked me up > and down and said: where's your chaps? I said, huh? He said: > you can't ride one of them bulls without your chaps. I said, > I forgot them. He shook his head and I thought that was the > end of it but he slowly got up and waved a hand for me to > follow him. > > We walked to the area where the travel trailers were > parked. He opened the door to one of the seediest looking > ones and walked inside. I followed him. He said: wait here a > minute. And he disappeared into the back behind a drawn > curtain. I heard a woman's voice but I couldn't hear what > she was saying. In a minute the old cowboy emerged holding a > set of leather chaps, badly worn but serviceable. He said: > put those on. Keep you from getting burned by bull hair and > make it easier to slide off him if you make it that far. So > I pulled them on over my pants and tied them off. Then he > handed me a leather vest and said: put that on too. I did as > he said. > > Do you have any money? he asked me. I didn't. Maybe some > change. What's that you got there? My guitar, I said. Wanna > trade? he asked. I really didn't, but man, looking at myself > in the full length mirror on the trailer door, I sure looked > like a cowboy. All I needed was some boots. So I said: throw > in those boots and you got a deal. He took them off and > handed them to me and I gave him my guitar. They were tight > but they fit. It occurred to me that it was a poor trade but > I sure did look like a cowboy. > > As we were walking back to the corral, the old cowboy asked > me if I knew what I was doing. I said, no. But I needed that > $100. He told me that I couldn't think of the bull as > something I was going to ride, otherwise I'd get thrown and > likely as not get hurt and on top of all that I wouldn't get > any money for my trouble. > > The old cowboy told me I had to be the bull. I had to feel > all the rage, all the hatred, all the pain that the bull was > feeling. For ten seconds, that had to be my world. Nothing > else would exist. He told me that if I could do that, I'd > win that $100. Take this, he told me, and handed me a little > piece of what looked like cellophane. Put it under your > tongue, he said. Go on. It'll help you ride better. So I > did. > > By then it was nearly noon. I walked over to the corral, > hung the flag from my neck, and got in the bull riding line. > There were four cowboys in front of me. I was glad to be > able to watch someone else try and ride that bull first > before climbing on myself. I didn't realize we'd each get > our own bull. > > Everything seemed to be taking on extraordinary meaning. I > could feel the gritty ground under my feet giving reluctant > way as I walked closer to the bull pen. Colors seemed to > become much brighter and the smell of the bulls much more > robust. I felt like a balloon slowly inflating and deflating > with each breath I took and there was the sound of > waterfalls and helicopters overhead. > > When I got on the bull it shifted in its pen and pinned my > right leg against the fence, hard. I felt my knee dislocate > but then the bull shifted again and I felt it pop back in. I > had my right hand wrapped tightly around a rope which was > itself wrapped tightly around the bull. I was a bump on the > bull's back, nothing more. My hand felt as if it were > elongating like a piece of rubber as I hugged myself into > the bull. > > A bell rang and the gate opened. I saw the ground rushing > up at me but suddenly I was yanked back up by that rubber > arm still attached to the rope. I had my balance. I could > feel it. I had watched the other riders and the good ones > always found their balance. > > There was just the bull... everything else disappeared. > Time itself stopped. It was like slow motion only fluid. A > buzzer was going off in my head then a strong hand had hold > of the back of my shirt lifting me off the bull. At that > moment the bull turned and lurched. I saw it all unfolding > and tried to parry the blow but it caught me in the ribs > with a blunted but still very sharp horn. Then I was on the > ground and the crowd was cheering me. I hammed it up and > waved my hat before walking back to the sidelines. > > The leather vest absorbed most of the blow. I thought the > bull's horn just bumped me hard but then I felt something > trickling into my right boot. I realized I'd been gouged as > my vest was ripped. A doctor at the medical tent stitched it > up. I didn't want him to but he said it needed stitches. > Each poke of the needle brought exquisite pain even though > he'd deadened the wound with novocain. The doctor said if > not for the vest I'd of been hurt a lot worse. > > Later that night there was a dance and I had a brand new > hundred dollar bill in my pocket. Several very pretty girls > all seemed to be looking my way. One especially pretty > little cowgirl came over and asked me if I'd like to dance. > Later she rode me till the birds were twittering. That > morning I hitched a ride back east with a family going to > Idaho. I didn't have a guitar and I couldn't think of a > reason to go back to Mendocino. > > But I still like the name. > _________________________________________________________________ > Windows Live™ SkyDrive™: Get 25 GB of free online > storage. > http://windowslive.com/online/skydrive?ocid=TXT_TAGLM_WL_SD_25GB_062009 > Moq_Discuss mailing list > Listinfo, Unsubscribing etc. > http://lists.moqtalk.org/listinfo.cgi/moq_discuss-moqtalk.org > Archives: > http://lists.moqtalk.org/pipermail/moq_discuss-moqtalk.org/ > http://moq.org.uk/pipermail/moq_discuss_archive/ > ____________________________________________________________________________________ Access Yahoo!7 Mail on your mobile. Anytime. Anywhere. 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