“Lindsay, put your riding clothes on. We’re going to go look at a horse.”
My father’s announcement – totally out-of-left field – like a dream to my 12 yr. old self.
Dad was a dreamer, an entrepreneur with his ear always open for a “good deal”. But he never dreamed out loud. He kept a good deal under wraps until it was a “done deal’.
When dad said something was happening… it was happening.
Not surprisingly, this horse was a good deal from a business acquaintance – a Standardbred race horse, early retired and “broke to ride”. “Broke to ride” – a description to bypass when shopping for a novice horse
Dad was a business guy – not a horse guy.
Todd (the horse came with that name):
- rarely cantered
- developed in me (by necessity) an equitation foundation sturdy enough to post to the most jarring trot I’ve yet ever experienced
- jumped picnic tables
- rode into suburbia
- wore costumes
- tolerated my all my horse-crazy girl experiments
- cost $300.
Dad didn’t know at the time that he was investing in his daughter’s education for her future vocation. Of course, my horse pursuit would cost him many $1000s more.
Yet, if Dad could speak (he didn’t speak for 15 yrs after suffering a stroke) , I think he’d say it was a good deal.