Mad Jack Hanks: Tales From The O-NO Ranch 10-1-12
October 1, 2012
No way I'm losing my way. No way! I get amused at times because some of you guys are getting concerned that I may be losing my way. No way.
Yep, ever since I started to ride a motorcycle it threw some of you gentle readers off my trail. I have to confess that when I have my biker costume on and I am at the post office or grocery market and run into you I get this sad puppy dog look. I have been asked twice this week, "Do you even have any horses any more?" Yes, of course I have horses but I don't ride them 12 miles into town to pick up the mail or buy a few groceries. I'm sure it wouldn't hurt them any but it would sure hurt me. I wouldn't be able to sit down for a week.
It's sort of like this: Cowboyin' is a young man's game. Heck, everybody knows that or at least they should. Now some of you old timers out there that still get a'horseback every week in the good months and take care of your livestock, I apoligize. You guys never get old. Now if I had a bigger place, a woman companion (married or hangin' onto my shirt tail) I might consider gettin' back in the game for a little while longer.
I'm satisfied with runnin' a few steers in the summer and checkin' on them from the back of a horse. I get that good ole time cowboy feeling each and every time I am a'horseback checkin' livestock. I don't team rope, sort or pen as entertainment which it is for a lot of folks. God bless 'um! Thirty years or so of that on a fairly consistent basis on the ranch will take a little starch out of your britches plus it can get expensive. I bet if I would just go and do a little of it I would get hooked. Right now I would rather go dancin'!
When I have my biker costume on and I am at the post office or grocery market and run into you I get this sad puppy dog look.
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I was in the post office today getting my mail and I heard somebody come clompin' in behind me and I thought it must have been a yeild grade four female in high heels. Wrong! As I stepped over to one of the tables (in my biker costume) this loud clompin stomped right up beside me. As I glanced over I realized it was a young "buckaroo" or at best a "wanna be" puncher standing beside me with his chaps on, a huge pair of spurs, long sleeve shirt, vest and big hat. He was lettin' this ole biker know that a "real cowboy" had arrived. He kept glancin' over in my direction to see if I had noticed his presence. He stayed as long as I was there and I was there for a while going through my mail. I chuckled as I thought I most likely had thrown a leg over more "snotty broncs" than he had ever been on gentle ponies. Of course I don't know, he might have been the best "buckaroo" this side of Elko. I also thought that could have been me 40 years ago.
Nope, I haven't lost my way. I am still me and by golly, I'm having more fun than any old guy ought to have. The Lord's been good to me.
Stay tuned, check yer cinch on occasion and I'll c y'all, all y'all.
As a sidebar I do appreciate your concern! ❖
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