The Buggy Ride

It's finally here! For years I have spent countless hours searching for the perfect buggy. A month ago I found it on ksl.com and knew right away that it was the one. The only problem was that it was in Colorado and the gentleman I was buying it from was in no hurry to bring it here. It finally arrived this afternoon. Now the only problem is that it's here and my buggy horse is not. Isn't that ironic. As my dear wife suggested, it's like having a new car without the key. Molly's Missile is the name of our buggy horse but we call him Dan. Dapper Dan to be exact. A nickname given by his trainer and former caretaker, aka my dad.

About four years ago I stumbled across Dan and his mother, Crystal's Molly. We had a neighbor in Riverton that had them and couldn't afford to feed them so he was looking for a home for the pair so he gave them to me. They were both very fancy bred Standard Bred horses. Dan's mother died of colic awhile after I took her out to Starr Valley to my folk's place. My dad took a liking to Dan and tried to trade me out of him several times. He started driving Dan and broke him to drive and ride. In the meantime he also utilized Dan's studly qualities and bred his big Belgium mare Goldie to Dan. Dan sired a filly named Anne and a horse colt named Andy out of Goldie. They are a matched pair and will make a nice team for him someday. Little did Dan know, he sort of created a replacement for himself and his presence will no longer be welcome when it comes time to feed hay this fall in Starr Valley. This whole getting fed thing seems to be a theme with Dan. I guess in a way it works out perfectly because we need a buggy horse now to pull our buggy. With the high price of fuel, you never know what may happen. Dan may have a full time job.

Now to the name of my blog. The Buggy Ride. I'm not sure when I first used the phrase. I may have borrowed it from Scot Hazard who often refers to a less than smooth real estate transaction as a buggy ride. It seems that many experiences in my life (especially recently) have been a bit of a buggy ride. That tends to put a negative connotation with the term buggy ride which isn't nearly the case. There is hardly anything more peaceful then a buggy ride down my folk's lane in the evening with my dad at the lines, resolving the problems of the world or whatever issue might be at hand. The crickets singing along with the steady sound of hoof beats and buggy wheels on the gravel road, Boulder Creek passing by, a light breeze blowing the leaves in the trees, the sweet smell of sage brush and wild flowers and a splendid northern Nevada sunset making the horizon glow and the rugged mountains splash with color. That... is anything but negative.

I guess the generalized term of a buggy ride signifies a rough ride, feeling every bump and jolt a long the way and feeling like you've been shaken until you think you may break at any moment. Having experienced both, my preference would be the peaceful version through Starr Valley, but I've probably encountered the latter more often. And so it is, a term with dual meaning. The good version is always good, the tough bumpy version... not always bad but perhaps more challenging. I actually plan on writing a book someday detailing some of my more memorable bumpy rides through life. For now I'll blog away and enjoy sharing them with you, the good and the bumpy.