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Unfortunately, I've since moved and lost track of Liz and Gulliver. Too
bad, she was lots of fun to ride with...here in L.A. it was not uncommon
to be bothered by "flashers" on the trail, even during one
summer one particular (naked) man that would try either frightening the
horse so they would unseat the woman rider or even try pulling women out
of the saddle. One day Liz and I were riding along a narrow trail and
sure enough, this guy jumps out of the bushes, naked as a jaybird and
proudly displays the physical appendage of which he was most pleased
(though, if you ask me, it wasn't worth bragging about). Liz looks for
about half a second, whips out this enormous deer-sticker Rambo knife
she has hanging off her saddle and always rode with (she says she
wasn't allowed to carry a rifle like she really wanted to), yells "OH
BOY! TROPHIES!" and goes thumping ol' Gulliver into a dead-out gallop
towards the flasher. This guy turns white as a sheet, turns and goes
running just as hard as he can up the canyon, with Liz and Gulliver
right behind him, waving that damn machete and whooping like a Comanche.
I was laughing so hard I fell off of Mikey onto my butt. (And no, Liz
didn't get her "trophy"---she came back a few minutes later, very
annoyed that the flasher hadn't played fair and had dove off the trail
into heavy brush and, judging by the screams, cactus.)
By the way, we never had problems with flashers on that part of the
trail that summer. Wonder why? :->
Susan
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