By: Bob Goddard
When we were kids, spotting a horse trailer on the road was a big event. “Hey, look! Horses!” we would say. Then, as we passed the trailer, we craned our little necks to see if we could catch a glimpse of the beast lurking inside. The most we ever saw was a tail or a nostril.
These days, we see horse trailers all over the place. It’s nothing to get excited about. But I do feel a sort of camaraderie with people pulling the things. I have an idea of what they’ve been through. And it’s not good. I have yet to meet one who does not have at least one tale of disaster and woe.
My first trailering disaster caught me completely by surprise. It involved a very old truck, an even older trailer, and my extremely young wife, Jenny. I was new to the business and had a problem recognizing trouble when it happened … or even after it happened.
It happened on a Sunday morning while en route to an open show about 50 miles from where we lived. About half way into the trip, Jenny – who had been following me in the car – suddenly pulled up beside me and began honking her horn and flashing her lights. Obviously, she was just saying “hi.” I smiled and waved back.
Jenny began gesturing frantically, pointing to the rear of the trailer. This was certainly her way of telling me I was doing a good job pulling that trailer. She always displays her pride like that. It’s a little embarrassing for me, but who can blame her? I nodded and gave her the thumbs up.
Jenny’s eyes got real big, and I could tell she was shouting something. Oh, my wife. Always clowning around.
I got into the spirit of the moment and smushed my face up against the driver’s side window. This flattened out my facial features, and I’m sure Jenny was highly amused by my humorous antics.
However, I never got to see how she responded, because at that moment my daughter looked to the rear of the truck at the trailer and indicated that it might be a good time to pull over. Because this statement was punctuated by a blood curdling scream just inches from my right ear, I thought it might be best if we stopped for a bit. Just to see if my hearing could be, at least partially, restored.
Well, come to find out, one of the trailer’s tires had a blow out. The right rear tire was definitely flat. If you can call remnants of rubber shreds wrapped around the rear axle “a flat.” Obviously, this happened several miles ago. I was curious why Jenny hadn’t said anything sooner.
I guess I would never find out. Here’s my theory: a female’s response to a crisis is not the same as a male’s. While I was calm, relaxed and making rational decisions, Jenny was beside herself.
She kept screaming things. With all the traffic roaring by, it was difficult to understand what she was saying. I caught a word or phrase every now and then. Things like a “big puff of black smoke” and “how could you not know?” Also, “idiot” and “kill” and “divorce lawyer.” My wife, she’s such a kidder.
Actually, the whole situation could have been worse. Instead of seeing Jenny pull up beside me, it could have been the horse trailer itself. Independent and free-running, going on the momentum provided by the truck it had recently been attached to. THAT would’ve been worse.
But not much.
