“C’mon’ Mary let’s get goin’. The new wagon is here,” I said.
The trip to town took forty-five minutes riding a mule. Mary wasn’t stubborn but he wasn’t fast either. Mules are encumbered with gender problems, being sterile and all and the family wanted a girl, so he is Mary the mule.
“The old wagon is already in town so you won’t have to pull it.” We could cut across the Wimberly place without a wagon and shave thirty minutes off the trip. Still was going to be a couple of hours back and I had been waiting on this wagon for three months.
It was a new John Deere with leaf springs and a detachable tongue. The tongue came off so it could be pushed into the barn and used for storage. It also had a shelf underneath to store tools and tack. It was painted JD green, too. We were all hoping to get a car someday but the wagon was for now.
When we got to the implement dealer and started fitting Mary to the new wagon he seemed a little nervous but then became a show-off. He stood still and straight until all of the tack was tightened.
“Okay boy, let’s head back and put this wagon to work. Git-up!” As Mary stood straight and still.
“Come on Mary, let’s go!” as the salesman gave him a tug on the bridle and a tap on the shoulder. I never saw him stand so rigid… like a statue.
Frank, my salesman said “I’ve seen this a couple of times and I have an idea”, as he disappeared into the barn. He came back with a small bundle of straw. “We’ll put this right here under Mary and you get on the wagon.” I climbed aboard and he struck a match to the straw. Mary looked back at him and then looked at the smoke starting to rise and like lightning, lifted his back right leg and took a swipe at Frank with it.
“Whoa that was close.” Frank was pretty agile, thank the Lord.
In the meantime Mary had started forward and I gave a shake to the reins. Just a couple of steps and he stopped with the wagon right over the small fire which was going pretty well by now.
“Quick, get that out from under the wagon.” and we were jumping and stomping and scattering that straw while Mary pulled back his lips and grinned.
I’d had Mary for ten years and knew when he was serious and when he was acting like a mule. I jumped on board. Hollered a gee and a haw, cracked those reins over his head and said “Mary, you git moving or it’s no oats for you tonight you mule-headed son of a jack.” Mary loved his oats.
We headed out of town and I was going out to the new gravel road. The county commissioner had built it to help keep the cars that were showing up once in awhile from getting stuck so often. The town felt it was helpful for business. As Mary and I plodded out of town on the wagon ruts toward the new road I noticed a cloud of dust over the hill. Mary was starting to get his rhythm with the new wagon.
“This baby is smooth and easy to pull isn’t it boy?” as I kicked him into his sturdy half-trot which got us up to about two miles and hour. We were really enjoying our ride as we came to the joining of the gravel road. That cloud of dust turned out to be one of those cars Commissioner Collette was so in love with. Mary hadn’t seen one out on his territory before so he started getting agitated.
“Easy big boy.” he was trying to break out to run but the wagon was a load, so he shouldered it to a full-trot at three miles an hour.
There we went toward the car coming at twenty miles per hour. Of course, as has been proven many times before and since, horsepower rules, so the car raced on through our little “intersection” bouncing and honking and yes, belching some smoke. Mary was totally mad by now, swerved, bucked a little and took off at a completely restricted gallop across the pasture. “Okay, Mary, whoa boy, you’re going to pop a vein. “
I made a pact with him, then and there, when we get a car, the first thing I’m doing is run somebody off the road.
The trip to town took forty-five minutes riding a mule. Mary wasn’t stubborn but he wasn’t fast either. Mules are encumbered with gender problems, being sterile and all and the family wanted a girl, so he is Mary the mule.
“The old wagon is already in town so you won’t have to pull it.” We could cut across the Wimberly place without a wagon and shave thirty minutes off the trip. Still was going to be a couple of hours back and I had been waiting on this wagon for three months.
It was a new John Deere with leaf springs and a detachable tongue. The tongue came off so it could be pushed into the barn and used for storage. It also had a shelf underneath to store tools and tack. It was painted JD green, too. We were all hoping to get a car someday but the wagon was for now.
When we got to the implement dealer and started fitting Mary to the new wagon he seemed a little nervous but then became a show-off. He stood still and straight until all of the tack was tightened.
“Okay boy, let’s head back and put this wagon to work. Git-up!” As Mary stood straight and still.
“Come on Mary, let’s go!” as the salesman gave him a tug on the bridle and a tap on the shoulder. I never saw him stand so rigid… like a statue.
Frank, my salesman said “I’ve seen this a couple of times and I have an idea”, as he disappeared into the barn. He came back with a small bundle of straw. “We’ll put this right here under Mary and you get on the wagon.” I climbed aboard and he struck a match to the straw. Mary looked back at him and then looked at the smoke starting to rise and like lightning, lifted his back right leg and took a swipe at Frank with it.
“Whoa that was close.” Frank was pretty agile, thank the Lord.
In the meantime Mary had started forward and I gave a shake to the reins. Just a couple of steps and he stopped with the wagon right over the small fire which was going pretty well by now.
“Quick, get that out from under the wagon.” and we were jumping and stomping and scattering that straw while Mary pulled back his lips and grinned.
I’d had Mary for ten years and knew when he was serious and when he was acting like a mule. I jumped on board. Hollered a gee and a haw, cracked those reins over his head and said “Mary, you git moving or it’s no oats for you tonight you mule-headed son of a jack.” Mary loved his oats.
We headed out of town and I was going out to the new gravel road. The county commissioner had built it to help keep the cars that were showing up once in awhile from getting stuck so often. The town felt it was helpful for business. As Mary and I plodded out of town on the wagon ruts toward the new road I noticed a cloud of dust over the hill. Mary was starting to get his rhythm with the new wagon.
“This baby is smooth and easy to pull isn’t it boy?” as I kicked him into his sturdy half-trot which got us up to about two miles and hour. We were really enjoying our ride as we came to the joining of the gravel road. That cloud of dust turned out to be one of those cars Commissioner Collette was so in love with. Mary hadn’t seen one out on his territory before so he started getting agitated.
“Easy big boy.” he was trying to break out to run but the wagon was a load, so he shouldered it to a full-trot at three miles an hour.
There we went toward the car coming at twenty miles per hour. Of course, as has been proven many times before and since, horsepower rules, so the car raced on through our little “intersection” bouncing and honking and yes, belching some smoke. Mary was totally mad by now, swerved, bucked a little and took off at a completely restricted gallop across the pasture. “Okay, Mary, whoa boy, you’re going to pop a vein. “
I made a pact with him, then and there, when we get a car, the first thing I’m doing is run somebody off the road.
1 comment:
This is so darn cute... Mary the Mule... cool take on epic sized transitions in social eras, between ancient rivals.
Pat
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