Thinking about my last post, I thought of so many other things that we loved to do when visiting our grandparents. Others have commented about a horse my grandfather used to own. We called him "Old Tony". He had been born to one of grandpa's other horses, and he was what grandpa called a "jughead". In horseman's terms that means the horse won't amount to much, and won't learn well. Grandpa wanted to put him down, but according to Lonehawk, our uncle, he talked his dad out of doing this.
That horse was trained, and turned out to be one of the best horses grandpa ever owned. He used to amaze people with the things he could do on voice command. He was part quarter horse, and part Morgan (I think), which meant that he was a very big horse. He stood over 17 hands (well over 6 feet), and would often be seen carrying 3 or 4 kids at once. He could climb into, and out of, a pickup without any loading ramp. When loaded with a deer, he could be told to go home, and he would take the deer back to the house without any rider.
We would often go to the field where grandpa grazed him, and call him to us for an impromptu bareback ride. He was in many parades, and even raced a couple of times in the holiday horse races.
He wasn't the only horse that I loved to ride though. My uncle Karl owned what was probably my favorite horse. It was a cream colored palamino looking horse called Flint. The summer I rode him the most, I was 16. I was tanned as brown as any Indian, and my hair was sun-bleached to almost blond. I would put on my moccasins, and a bandanna headband, and would ride all over town. I thought I was very cool. Probably not. Please let me keep my delusions though. :o)
Make some memories. Stick.