Mobile Peep Show

     I was reminded the other day, as I watched a Paso Fino and his rider shuffle down the side of the road, of a fascinating experience I once endured.

     Some years ago, as I blundered along the front side of thirty, I somehow found myself interviewing for a job at a Paso Fino farm. Why I thought this would be a good idea is beyond me.

     The Q&A portion of the interview went well enough. It was really the riding portion that had me concerned. What did I know about riding a Paso Fino? I can assure you nothing.

     The barn manager, let’s call him Bob, walked me down the barn aisle way and introduced me to my interview horse. Standing in crossties tacked up and ready roll was Sid, a five-year old, 14’3h, chestnut, Paso Fino stallion.

     Sid was detached from the crossties and as he stood only 14’3 Bob felt no need to mount using a stirrup or a mounting block, instead he sprung with ease from the ground onto Sid’s back. If Bob were hoping for the same kind of action from me, he would be sorely mistaken.

     Bob rode out into a largish field and gave me a quick tutorial. “If you want him to trot kick him in the shoulder.” That wouldn’t have been my first choice of places to put my leg but what did I know.

     “If you want him to canter kick him harder in the shoulder.” Again, not where I would have thought to “kick” Sid, but I didn’t even know a Paso Fino could canter, so suggesting an alternative to the shoulder kick, I thought, should remain unsaid.

     “If you want Sid to slow down or stop just pull on the reins like this.” Sid came to a screeching halt. I have never intentionally asked for a screeching halt and I was curious to know how I would fare.

     “Okay, Rebecca your turn, just jump on.” Bob truly believed I had the ability to leap on a horse from the ground. What Bob didn’t realize was that I only had the ability to knock over an 1100lb horse whilst attempting to jump on from the ground.

     “I think it would be better if I could use the stirrup. Is that okay?” I put my left foot in the stirrup, and as I swung my right leg over the saddle, Sid quickly shuffled forward. This darting shuffle of his threw me off balance and my natural instinct was to give a tug on the reins. Sid immediately slammed on the brakes. Needless to say, the abrupt halt propelled me onto Sid’s neck. His long flowing mane, that I am sure some find very beautiful, was nothing more than a netting of sorts for me to get hung up in.

     “I will be right back.” Bob said, clearly having just missed the debacle.

     With Bob off to make a phone call I was pleased not to be under his scrutiny, not that I thought there would be too much of that. I gave Sid a light shoulder kick. True to Bob’s word, Sid began to trot. The only problem was with each shuffling stride of Sid’s the speed in which he went slowly increased. Fearing that I may lose control of Sid I gave a very faint feel to the reins and he jerked to a walk. I gave a little kick to the shoulder and he sped off. Tugged the reins and again he jerked to a walk. Somehow, I’d managed to create a rather lurching gait that did little more than thrust me forward and then back again. Unsatisfied with my Paso Fino riding ability, I decided to give the canter a go. I gave Sid a sharpish kick to the shoulder and I believe that what I was feeling was a canter. One can’t be too sure. Despite the herky-jerky gaits I had created, I could in fact be riding around drinking champagne just as the Paso Fino clan proclaims, for those of us that wish to drink and ride simultaneously.

     Once fully established in a full-blown “canter” Bob, naturally, returned. “Good canter!” I felt like an ass riding Sid, but somehow in spite of my awkwardness Bob felt I had created a good Paso Fino canter. “Canter up to me and stop.” I can’t even express the level of anxiety I felt about the impending halt. I braced myself against the stirrups pulled on the reins and Sid slid to a stop. I remained in my braced position chuffed with my performance. That being said, I didn’t want the job but I did want this ride to end.

     “Fantastic.”  How Bob thought that anything I had just done was fantastic amazes me. “Make him side step.”

     Side step? Really? Why?

     “Just kick him with your left leg.” I kicked and Sid shot sideways and was clearly going to continue sideways until I pulled on the reins. I finally managed a quick tug after fifty odd sideways steps.  

     According to Bob, the job was mine if I wanted it. If I took the job, fingers crossed, Bob would very much like me to ride Sid in the Paso Fino festival that was to take place the following day. Was Bob insane? Had he not seen my fine mounting display, or my overall ineptness at riding a Paso Fino?

     “The Paso Fino Festival, Rebecca, we like to be as traditional as possible. And for that reason I would like very much for you to wear this.” Tada! Bob flung open the doors to a shed as if to reveal the one item that would lure me into the world of Paso Finos. Splayed out carefully over several dusty, moldy boxes was the dress that I was to wear. The one that would inevitably transform me into a traditional Paso Fino riding Spaniard. To know me is to know that I am every bit a pale skinned, blue-eyed, buxom, blonde. Very little of me, if any, screams olive skinned, dark hair sporting, senorita. I dare say, the dress was a velvet picture inspiration. It was puffy, red and littered in black lace. Undoubtedly, the train of the dress would drape over Sid’s hindquarters and would scarcely ripple as he and I sashayed our way around the festival. I would delight people with my sudden stops and the herky-jerky fashion in which I would force Sid to travel. Meanwhile, my heaving bosom would slowly creep from the ill-fitting bustier portion of the dress. Mothers would be forced to cover their children’s eyes. Fathers would look on with eager amusement. And I, the pale faced Spanish Paso Fino riding fool, wouldn’t have a clue. Forward, back and side to side I would go, kicking Sid on the shoulder and in a panic pulling on the reins. All the while making this family oriented festival into a mobile peep show.

     I told Bob that it pained me to say that I would be unable to take the job. But, thanks so much for the offer.