A friend of mine went horseback riding today. Up a beach on a sunny Queensland day. She trotted, galloped and felt the wind in her hair as she and her friends celebrated a birthday of a man now in his 76th year. '
It must have been glorious. A group of friends celebrating the joy of life on an open beach in the sunshine and leaving the cares of the world behind.
And it took me back to a day, about 50 years ago, when Redhead rode a horse and her bra strap broke.
Not the actual ride
It was many, many years ago, we went horseback riding. In true style, Redhead ( Mum, now aged 90 ) approached this task with true grit. She had never ridden a horse since her childhood. Like most of us in the " club. " The club that was made up of family, friends and familiars, all hoping for a tranquil meander in the Mamaku Ranges outside of Rotorua in New Zealand.
Our horses were chosen for their docile natures. Nice, dear, loving chaps and chapettes who were happy to plod along a familiar road and bear the burden of us on their backs.
One of our group was a fellow who had recently bought a video camera. It was a revolutionary device that could capture things called " home movies " and be replayed on a reel to reel device so that we could entertain ( or bore ) our friends to death.
Gone were the days of slide shows. The video had arrived in all of its Super 8 glory.
As we departed, our obedient and steadfast steeds wended their weary way up through the heavily wooded trails and carried us through pine forest areas, beech and eventually we arrived to an open plain high above the place from which we had departed.
Not the actual trek. Just something to set the mood.
Until now, our man with the camera had not shot a scene. Whether it was because he was mesmorised by the beauty of the scenery or the company of his charming lady wife, we will never know.
The day had been going swimmingly.
It was time to turn our horses home.
Now, as anyone knows, horses at a dude ranch or any form of horse hire facility know, horses are slow to leave home but rather eager to get back.
And so it was, on this particular day back in about 1972, that we turned our horses to head " home. "
Now, Redhead was and is a rather gorgeous lady with a well-endowed figure of feminine assets.
Her horse, in particular, seemed very keen to return home and place its nose in the nosebag and get a good feed for a day's work well done.
So off it went. Redhead thundered off at a gallop and our trusty cameraman captured the entire thing on video.
Her valiant attempt to stay on the horse was evident. Her resolve was mighty.
Again, not a true depiction of the event.
But, alas, her bra strap broke and she bounced and bobbed, jiggled and wiggled all the way to the end of the plateau.
The horse finally slowed down and stopped.
Redhead sat, like Bodicea, on the back of the mighty horse and we all laughed. A lot.
Not Redhead. She doesn't have any tattoos. But she is fierce.
It was only a few days later that our friend with the camera announced a party.
We all gathered and were told that we would witness a pair of triumphant riders - two beings that defied gravity and rode to victory.
And up came the video of Redhead's ride.
No, it was not like Red Jack. No horsewoman was this Red-headed woman. She was a woman with big bright bouncing beautiful boobs and, by God, it should be celebrated.
So said the cameraman who hosted the event.
He rolled the tape, as they say. He then played it backwards. He replayed it and Redhead saw her valiant ride in full technicolor on a screen in front of her friends and relatives.
My late Dad spoke up.
" You may laugh at her ride. But I can assure you that the horse did not realise what a woman he had on his back. "
He went on " If you know my wife, that horse never stood a chance! "
And we still laugh about that day and, yes, Dad, it was funny.
I spoke with Redhead about this only this evening and she said to me " I was rather gorgeous wasn't I?
Oh, yes, Redhead. You were and are absolutely marvelous.
