The Some What Ridiculous Adventures of Mr. Pibb

Chapter Four

            A week later we all reconvened at five o’clock for our lesson, but this time Suzan, Jackobe, Carl, Jimmy, and I were joined by the mysterious girl from the pasture and her all too familiar horse Cooper.  I waited expectantly as the lesson began for Trainer to introduce our new lesson mate, but he never did.  I was left in the dark about who this unusually small and creative girl was and let me tell you I was about to die from curiosity. 

            The lesson went as usual.  Trainer yelled at me to steer.  I yelled back that steering was not included in this model pony.  He didn’t laugh at my joke.  Oh well.  Suzan and Jackobe began warming up while Trainer had a small chat with Pibb and me about ‘trying’ and putting ‘effort’ into our riding.  Because they are his most advanced students, Suzan and Jackobe are allowed to warm up unsupervised.  I envy them.  Mystery girl was also allowed to warm up by herself which made me wonder because most of, actually all of, Trainer’s new students are required to warm up with him supervising. 

            After we warmed up Trainer made a small cross rail at the end of the ring and began coaching Jimmy, Suzan, and Jackobe over it.  Jimmy went first on Rocky.  Rocky was purchased by Jimmy’s step-dad as a ‘hey I really want you to like me so I bought you a pony’ gift.  It worked.  Rocky has taken Jimmy from the walk division to the walk/trot division in a year.  Rocky had a certain style that the judges loved and as he approached the cross rail he upped the style.  Jimmy posted in perfect rhythm with Rocky’s fast trot and smiled as the pony took two canter steps before lifting his legs to effortlessly clear the cross rail.  The pair canter their signature three steps after the jump and then came to a relatively square halt at the rail.

            Trainer smiled, “Good Jimmy.  Try to not canter as much next time.  Remember this is the walk/trot division not the canter division.”  Jimmy nodded in acknowledgment and then rode to the group in the center of the ring. 

            Suzan went next.  Missy was as perfectly groomed as ever today.  Her coat shone in the fading Monday sunlight.  Suzan was dressed mouse grey riding pants and her spotlessly white shirt was set off by a black belt.  Her hair was pulled back into a single French braid today instead of the two pigtails she normally wears.  As they approached the cross rail Suzan counted the steps under her breath.  I did too and watched in awe as she perfectly cleared the jump.  She then came to a square halt at the rail and gave Missy a pat on the neck before returning to the group. 

            Trainer nodded and said, “That was a show worthy performance Suzan, keep it up.”

            My arch nemesis, Jackobe, was next and last.  Prince was so ugly.  I don’t normally say that flat out.  I try to be creative in my descriptions of ugly horses.  I treat it like a word association game.  You say chestnut paint with a big head I say rustic with an increased capability to not think.  It works.  Anyway, as Jackobe and his ugly horse approached the jump they completely lost their rhythm and took a half step in front of the fence.  But what did Trainer say when they finally halted (sideways by the way)?

            He said and I quote, “Fantastic Jackobe.”  Since he added Jackobe at the end I can’t even pretend like he was talking to someone else but happened to looking in Jackobe’s direction.  Un-be-live-able.

            On that note Trainer dismissed us from the lesson and we headed back up the path to the barn.  Only Jimmy, Carl, Suzan, Jackobe, and I were dismissed though.  Mystery girl remained in the ring and didn’t return to the barn with Trainer until after we had all finished putting our horses away.  Suspicious?  I think so. 

            As I was walking out of the barn Trainer called me.  “I need to talk to you.”  Interested in what Trainer had to say and slightly afraid I stopped and nodded.  He began, “Since you are going to the Town Show in less than three months I believe that it is in yours and Pibb’s best interest to take a private lesson once a week along with your current group lesson.  At least until the Town Show.”  I was again left speechless.  Private lessons were reserved for new students and advanced students only.  Trainer’s time was precious and he didn’t want to waste it teaching the people like me.

            I managed to stutter out ‘sure’ before I ran to my mom’s car.

***

            My first private lesson was scheduled for Thursday and I waited for that day with mixed feelings.  I was on one hand excited and flattered that Trainer want to give me private lessons but on the other I didn’t know that I wanted an entire hour alone with Trainer.  That was fairly intimidating.

            I wore my nice schooling clothes, navy riding pants and the white polo with the barn’s logo.  I even arrived an hour early so I could clean Pibb more than usual.  That plan with South fast when I found Pibb covered in fresh, wet mud.  Again I could find no mud anywhere in the pasture.  It must be some kind of genetic mutation that results in him secreting mud.  Gross.  I tried to clean him.  I really did.  But in the end I ended up covered in mud he ended up with a more complete coating of mud (instead of removing it, I ended up smearing it all over him).  Trying to salvage the last bit of my plan to look decent I pulled on my shiny clean tall boot, which Pibb promptly sneezed all over. 

            At exactly three I entered the ring.  Trainer was waiting.  If he noticed my failed attempt to look nice for the lesson he didn’t say anything which made me feel a little better.  I felt better, until I looked around the ring.  There were three cross rails set up; two on one side of the ring forming a line and another on the opposite side.  I gulped but pretended not to notice as Trainer began telling me how to warm up.

            Pibb and I had our usual argument over steering and speed, mostly the lack thereof.  Trainer tried explaining what I needed to do to get Pibb to listen to me but he evidently gave up because he changed the topic.

            “Come into the center for a minute.”  I did, with some difficulty.  “I want you to trot over the single cross rail coming toward me and then halt.  Use the fence if you must, but stop.”  I nodded and asked Pibb to walk forward.  The cross rail loomed in front of use as we began our approach at the trot.  I attempted to count a rhythm as I had seen Suzan do the Monday before.  It was no use, we could not keep a rhythm and as a result took the cross rail at the wrong spot from the wrong pace.  It was a disaster.  I was thrown onto Pibb’s neck.  He threw is head down to get rid of me and I for a second saw the future.  I was deposited not so gently on the ground by Pibb’s neck and left in the dust as he cantered away, happy to have been relieved of his load.  After I determined that I was not hurt I stood up and brushed the dirt off of my pants.  Thank goodness no one was here to see that I thought to myself. 

            Trainer walked over leading a gleeful looking Pibb, “Do it again.  This time don’t lean forward as you come to the jump.”  I obeyed and this time didn’t hit the dirt.  It was not pretty but I at least made it over the thing.  I looked to Trainer from some sign of approval.  Instead all I saw was a look of deep concentration.  I was disheartened. 

            We finished the lesson with some steering exercises and then I walked, in shame back to the barn.  Luckily there was still no one else there so I could wallow in my disappointment.  Absent mindedly I put my tack away and then walked my monster back to the pasture.  I did my best to forget the embarrassment of the last hour.

            As I was leaving Trainer again pulled me aside.  I was growing wary of these meetings as they increased in frequency.  “Next lesson I want you and Pibb to wear this bridle instead of the one you are using now.  I have a hunch that you and Pibb will be better at a different riding style but we will decide then.”  He turned to leave and then changed his mind, “Next private lesson, not Monday.”  With that he left leaving me to wonder what was so secret about this new funny looking bridle.