I had two ponies when I was a kid. A horse named Sissy and her colt, Apollo. I know Sissy is a silly name but her previous owner named her and she would not accept anything else. I named the colt Apollo because of my fascination with the space program in the 1970s. Sissy was very set in her ways and the most stubborn animal I have ever known. She would not hesitate to let you know right away if things were not going her way. Her black ears suddenly sweeping back against her head signaled the first warning. The next was when she would stop, turn and look back at you as if to say, “If you want to go that way, get off and walk!”

On the other hand, Jeff Homer and I trained Apollo. He had a beautiful white coat, sleek build and very strong. Jeff and I were very proud that two 12-year-old kids were able to break him during one summer. The training was very simplistic: turning, stopping, and running after a “click, click” sound and loosening of the reins. We were not interested in barrel racing or jumping, just a basic four on the floor sport model. We rode bare back all the time so there was no need for saddles. We played cowboys many summer afternoons on the farm. We’d ride all day then bed down next to a camp fire and a bag full of mom’s homemade cookies.

Our farm was surrounded mostly by regular neighborhoods where barn animals were scarce. When ever Jeff and I would ride to his home in town, several neighbor kids would come out to see the horses and inevitably, a few would ask to ride them. This is when Sissy would demonstrate to the world her unusual little quirk. It was not only considered bad behavior; it was so terrifying it burned permanent scars into the brains of those who experienced it.

This is how it would go down: A kid would beg me to let them ride her saying things like, “My grandpa has a bigger and faster horse and he let’s me ride it all the time.” “OK, but you better know what you’re doing”, I’d say. “Don’t let up on the reins, stay close and only walk her.” It’s important to remember that we are on the street, on asphalt, or maybe on a concrete driveway. Jeff Homer’s neighborhood was about two-miles from my place for which there is several regular neighborhood streets connecting to a small shopping center and a busy main highway before you reach my home.

Ok, so the kid climbs on Sissy and right away I can tell he has little experience behind the mane of a horse. He has never been on a horse like Sissy nor will he ever forget it. Sissy knew his limitations immediately and would communicate this by those ears slapping back against her head. She would turn to look at this kid and I knew exactly what she was thinking… “Kid, you are on the wrong horse at the wrong time.” And they’re off! Sissy took off like a black-haired dragster… She is going home and absolutely nothing or no one is going to stop her… I didn’t realize that a horse could peel out on dry pavement until I saw it for myself. The victim, sorry…I mean the “soon to be reformed” young man, is pulling back on the rains and screaming like he had just fallen off a cliff. If I were on Apollo at the time, I would try and keep up the best I could without endangering my life or others in our path.

If not, I’d try and commandeer a bicycle from another kid to give chase. In the meantime, this terrified kid is hovering in and out of shock, riding bare back on a horse at full gallop down a street, heading away from his home at blinding speed. Sissy quickly falls into a trance of unbridled madness and insanity. She would not slow down for turns, stop signs, or even cars in her ever-changing lane of traffic. Her hooves would slide around the street corners like she was on ice. The poor kid could do nothing but lie on her back, wrap his legs around her mid-section, grip her mane with both hands and try to stay conscious. Pulling back on the rains and begging Sissy to please stop failed within a few blocks. Trying to keep up was difficult for me not just because of the speed and deadly obstacles, I was not sure I wanted to be right there when the ride ended. Especially if it ended the way the kid and me feared it would… by impacting a motor vehicle or falling to the pavement in short pants and a tank top at nearly the speed of sound.

The route was always the same. Sissy was running off some kind of carbon-based GPS sense of direction. Her head down, ears back, and the clomp, clomp, clomp, that sounds like the clicking tracks under a run away train.

Once, I wondered what people would say as she ran toward them… “What is that? It looks black and mad… with something or someone on its back… It’s moving very fast and if I don’t move, whatever it is probably going to hit us… Oh my God, it’s a horse gone totally crazy!” As they run past… “Oh that poor boy… Quick, get in the car, let’s see how this ends up!” … Great, all I need is another witness…

Then comes the shopping center. It was the quickest route home for Sissy and she didn’t seem to care one bit that it was Saturday afternoon and the parking lot was packed with shopping carts, people, and of course, cars. Now Sissy has the greatest challenge ahead. She has to negotiate her way at full speed though several moving and standing obstacles… Sliding, turning, speeding up, slowing down, and then speeding up again. The barnacle on her back at this point is having an out-of-body experience. His brain can no longer process the terror that is unfolding. It was surprising that people act much like a deer in the headlights of a car. They would just freeze at the sight of the oncoming equestrian death ride from hell. I knew from experience that once she had made it through the shopping center, it was almost over. Just another half mile down the middle of a busy main street, then a hard right turn into my driveway, then about 100 yards up the lane to the main gate to the pasture. If the ride had not ended by collision or ejection of the rider at this point, chances are pretty good the kid would live. He’ll never be the same, but with help he may be able to return to a normal life.

Sissy bolted up the lane and I would lose sight of her due to dust and dirt kicked up behind her. I was thinking that if there was such a thing as a ground comet, this is what it would look like… A black supersonic satanic beast with a long plume of dust streaking out behind her.
The gate was always closed, so Sissy will have to make a stop. She wouldn’t slow down much, at least in the last ten feet or so. I think deep inside her sadistic brain she liked this part especially best. The gate was not much taller than her back so when the sudden stop occurred, the rider would be ejected forward and would actually take flight over Sissy’s head, just clearing the top of the gate. He would land on the hard dirt in the pasture. By the time I caught up, he would be laying in a fetal position, shaking and mumbling something in a language I could not make out, while weeping uncontrollably. His pants at times appeared to be wet, and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t from horse sweat.
Sissy would be standing there as if it was just another day out in the neighborhood. No look of guilt or fear, no rearing up and biting, her ears forward and relaxed. She just wanted to get home quickly for a drink of water and a bite of hay.

My mother would often drag me to church on Sunday. I would much rather be out riding my horses and playing cowboys and Indians. At church, they often spoke of miracles, talking snakes and a guy who once lived in the belly of a whale. I never paid much attention to that stuff until I witnessed Sissy’s ride of death. It was then that I witnessed a miracle. The poor kids who took that brutal ride was all the proof I needed. Somehow they hung on and in the end survived with no more than some form of temporary psychological impairment. Add to that, a life long fear of anything resembling a horse.

When the day comes when I pass from this world, I hope Sissy is there waiting to take me for a ride. Hopefully she will be as spirited as ever and I’ll be ready for it. The church would say that I’ve been a sinner and I’m headed for damnation. I’m not worried about it though. I’m going to climb aboard Sissy and she is going to gallop off taking me straight to the Holy Gates of Heaven. I know I'll be thrown off in her usual fashion, but at least I'll land on the other side. I know from experience, not even the power of the Devil himself can stop this horse. So after I’m gone, one night you may look up to the night sky and see something streaking through space. Is it a comet? A meteor? Well, it just might be Sissy and I headed home once again…