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A story about a Horse and a Motocycle


The Last Indian Rider

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I use to ride a horse, she was fast, turn on a dime, follow a cow, cut one out. Great when you were doing that. But great day in the morning! Most of the time we were just walking along trying to sneak up on a group of cows and this horse was dancing and prancing the whole way. She had a lot of bells and whistles but I wouldn't ride her. I will compare her to a fast sleek rice rocket. I don't care to ride one of those either. I don't mind if someone else does. Just not for me.

 

 

 

Then there was a solid, stocky built horse we called cracker. A nice horse to ride he walked like you were setting on a cloud. Never got excited about anything, well not much of anything. Sometimes he would see a booger in the bushes that really wasn't there and I would be scratching for leather to stay with him. When he ran you could feel his feet digging into the ground, he ran like the wind and you felt thunder under you. He was sure footed; He would jump over palmettos, stumps, and logs and never miss a beat. And he was an all day rider. My Indian motorcycle reminds me of him every time I feel the rumble of V-twin power while cranking out of a turn or flying down a straight away.

 

I love the rumble I love the thunder.

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I used to ride hores all the time.I think I grew up in a saddle! Maybe riding a motorcycle is just a carry-over of that.The feeling of having some,but not all,control along with the power and the wind blowing through your hair.Don't you think most bike riders are cowboys at heart?I like to think so!

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