#73 SCARY ACCIDENT

Little and me in the winter of 1947

One winter day in 1947, when I was fifteen, I decided to ride Little to the ski jump which was about two miles away. I hadn’t jumped for a few weeks and wanted to see my skiing friends. It was very cold, so I dressed warmly. I also decided to ride bareback. The heat from Little’s body would help keep me warm.

Because the roads had been especially icy that year, I had asked the blacksmith to shoe Little, using winter horseshoes with calks. The calks were sharp, tapered pieces of borium about a half inch long, protruding from his horseshoes. These cleats gripped the ice to prevent him from slipping. On this day, all the roads were covered with ice and snow. I was happy he had them.

I cantered up the first hill on Liberty Hill Road. We had gone a mile when we arrived at Route 101. This was a busy state road. In this stormy winter the snowplows had piled snow, maybe five feet high, on the shoulders so the two-lane highway was not as wide as usual. But, Little and I would have to travel on this busy road only a few minutes before turning off onto Old Bedford Road toward the ski jump. Several cars passed, slowing down when they saw a horse and rider. All was fine.

Suddenly I heard a truck coming very fast up behind me. I looked back over my shoulder. I saw a huge oil truck with a deafeningly loud engine. Whirling chains were noisily clanging around its wheels which helped the large tires grip the icy road. Right away, I became very concerned. So did Little. Becoming uneasy, he skittishly started to prance.

The truck thundered closer and closer and didn’t slow down. Just as the truck was about to pass, the driver blasted his horn, causing Little to panic and jump wildly all over the place. I was having a hard time staying on his back because I had no saddle. Scared, I held the reins tightly. The frightened horse reared straight up. Holding the reins even tighter trying to hang on, is exactly what a rider as not supposed to do. Unfortunately, instead of holding his mane as I should have done, I pulled his reins so hard that finally he fell over backward. I was very fortunate that this eight hundred pound horse didn’t land on me.

Now we were both lying flat in the road! In a split second, the tires of the huge truck, with clanking chains, were flying by, just inches from both of our heads. We came so close to being crushed! The truck driver never slowed down and he just blew his horn again as he passed and stepped on the gas and the engine roared even louder.

In our hurry to get up, Little, still scared, scrambled frantically. One of his flying hind feet hit me in the left shin. It really, really hurt! I could see that one of the calks on his shoe had sliced through my jeans. Thank goodness, Little had only minor scrapes on his hind legs.

I had to get home. I couldn’t walk because of the severe pain my leg was so awful. Somehow, holding Little’s reins, I crawled on the high snowbank and then I inched onto his back. I don’t know how I did this with my injured leg and not having the help of stirrups or a saddle. With the pain in my leg getting worse and worse, I rode Little slowly home.

My leg was hurting even more and more as I approached our house. At our door, still on Little, I called and called to Mummy. She finally heard me and came to the door. I told her what had happened and that I probably should go to the hospital. She, who had always been afraid of this spirited horse, said, “You have to put Little in his stall before I take you anywhere!” I did so, very painfully hopping on one leg.

At the hospital, when the doctors saw the seriousness of the wound, I was immediately injected with morphine.What a relief! The calk had ground cloth from my red, long underwear and my jeans deep into my shin bone. It seemed to take a long time for them to pick out of the wound all the red and blue material. The doctors and the nurses were amazed that my leg hadn’t been broken when they looked at the substantial hole in my shin bone! Surprisingly, the injury healed quickly. I still have the scar on my shin, sixty-four years later.

Almost the same accident appeared fifty years later in the 1998 movie, THE HORSE WHISPERER. It was very real and naturally frightening to me. In the beginning of the movie, a snowy, winter disaster occurred involving a truck and two girls on their horses. One girl and her horse were killed and the other horse and rider were seriously injured.

That movie scene was a chilling reminder of how lucky Little and I had been…not that I needed any reminder because this scary memory appeared in my mind often over the many years.