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Some Get a Mustang at 16, for others, It's 14

A special Thank you to equinespot.com for sharing this is story

Most people only dream of true love…. 

I lived it. 

When I was fourteen, my Mother let me adopt a wild Mustang from the Bureau of Land Management. We drove three and a half hours inland to the holding corrals in Susanville, California. Each corral held dozens of nervous Mustangs milling about like a school of fish avoiding prey. Immediately I spotted a beautiful black stallion in the bunch. Mom said no. 


“Come look at this little bay over here,” she said. “ I've been watching her. Not too aggressive, not too fearful….and look at those legs.” She was pretty! A signature on the dotted line and a fifteen dollar fee later, she was mine. 

20 months old and very underweight, I could hide my fingers between her ribs under that dried out matted coat. Skinny chest, narrow hips and legs that seemed too long she was like a big awkward puppy. She grew. By the time she was three I was riding her all over the neighborhood and into town. Mostly bareback, sometimes with a saddle. She continued to grow. She had a case of the long tall skinnys, like you see with teenage boys in High School. 

By the time she was six years old she was a twelve hundred forty five pound, sixteen hand tall powerhouse. That’s five foot, three inches too the top of her shoulder. Her chest and hip had filled out. Not the big bulky Quarter Horse kind of muscles, but the long lean Thoroughbred kind. Deep chest and legs a mile long, I was riding her everywhere. We had to ride over the Highway 101 overpass to get into town. It was the only way to the candy store. After all, a girl has got to get her chocolate fix! 



Diesel trucks, motorcycles, traffic, dogs, chainsaws…she feared nothing. We used to joke that she would make a great prospect for the New York Mounted Police. But she didn't belong in New York City. She belonged with me; riding the trails, beaches and backwoods of Northern California. We spent countless hours riding, exploring every nook and cranny; trespassing private properties I never told my Mother about….barrel racing, parades, trail rides, pack trips…. we did it all. 



I went to her when I was happy. I went to her when I was bored. I went to her crying my eyes out with teenage injustices. She was a good listener. She was my best friend. She was perfect. She was more than perfect. As far as I’m concerned, she was the most beautiful creature on four legs to ever walk the Earth. 



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