My one famous horseback ride was back when Colorado was still part of the wild west, maybe around the turn of the century.
I was attempting to wrestle up an account from a hospital group just south of Colorado Springs. As a savvy sales guy, it was apparent to me that the top hand, named Tex, fancied himself to be a real cowboy based on his colorful western shirt and a big, black cowboy hat that covered the coat rack.
I knew I was going places when Tex asked me out to his ranch after work to go on a little horseback ride. He read me as a real tenderfoot, so he picked Old Betsy for a safe and friendly ride. With a little help, I mounted Old Betsy, and Tex, his wife and two daughters started down the trail. Old Betsy had other ideas. Even as I did all those things I’d seen on TV westerns to let her know I was in command, Old Betsy turned around, slowly headed for the barn, entered her stall and laid down. I swung my leg out from under her in the nick of time and tumbled down on a stack of hay.
The whole family had swung around and caught the sight of me in the hay next to my steed. The two little girls could not stop laughing, even with their mother telling them to “hush up.”
The next day, I received a healthy contract from Tex and a photo of me next to Old Betsy.
Proving even a tenderfoot can lasso up a contact in the wild west.
The real me