grabbing the bull by the horn

September 26, 2012
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Grabbing the Bull by the Horns

It was in the middle of a 90 degree summer day. My brother and I both bugged my dad to let us ride in the rodeo that was coming up. He finally said fine, it sounded so great to us so my brother and I both couldn’t wait, because we wanted to see what it was like to ride on the back of a bull for the longest time. When the day of the rodeo came we packed up our boots and spurs we went to a little town called Camp Verde. The sound of the unloading bulls, the hooves hitting the trailer, scared me but my big brother was there to support me with my mom and dad.

When we walked up to the stand and were given our numbers, I received the number one forty two. I asked the lady why it was such a big number and she said it’s because there were so many kids riding that day. I was shocked when we walked down to see the bull I was riding; He was black and white with some brown on his face. He was a lot bigger than I imagined. After we went and looked at the bulls, we went to find the shoots where the first rider was preparing his rope for the of his life. A half an hour later, it was my turn to climb over the rail and ready my rope. When they called my name I was so nervous, everything went into slow motion. In those five seconds, it was the longest five seconds of my life. When I went down I hit the ground and caught a mouth full of dirt. It was crunchy and tasted like manure. Thank God I was wearing a vest! When my ride was over my brother was up.

He went down about six seconds before me and I knew then that he would be mad at me, because he didn’t beat me. So I was waiting for him behind the gates and behind the gates it smelled so good, it smelled like steers and dirt. When we went back to ride our second ride I climbed into the shoot, my heart was beating so fast it was about to leap out of my chest. When I told the guy to open the gate, I rode better than my brother again. This time he came from behind the gates to give me a high five for beating him. It was the coolest thing to ride the steers. Every rodeo after that I moved up in size. To me that meant even scarier bulls. We made friends riding; afterwards we would go and find something to eat at the fair that sounded good to all of us. The milkshakes are the best tasting in the world. It’s something I will never forget doing with my brother. Hopefully, we can ride again together soon. Ever since we moved to Colorado three years ago, I’ve never been able to ride again. Maybe someday my brother and I might be able to ride that eight second ride.

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