When I was about 12 years old we had a motel right on the beach and lived in an apartment in the back. My preteen days were spent on and around the beach finding my own adventures. There were not any kids in our area so I played alone most days.
One day some people brought their horses to the beach to ride. I immediately honed in on them. It looked so cool. I approached one of the guys and started talking to him about his horse as I patted her head. He said "Do you ride?"
"Well, yes, of course I do." I replied. And by "of course" I meant I have ridden a horse twice in my life and one time I nearly was bucked off. But I was confidant in my ability to ride this horse.
"Would you like to ride?"
"Oh yes, please!!" I clamoured on as per his instructions. Maybe he knew at this point that my knowledge of horses was lacking but he let me continue.
On top of the horse I thought "Wow, this is a large beast..." He broke into my anxious thoughts by telling me to go ahead.
I am not sure how we got started, my new equine friend and I, but start we did. Like someone had fired a starting pistol. I held on for dear life to the reins while also holding on to my ever-failing composure. On the outside I was looking as cool as any terrified 12 year old while on the inside I was screaming for my mommy.
Finally we reached a swash and somehow we turned around, probably from the horses natural inclination not from anything I did. We raced back and Mr. Horse-man caught the reins.
"Thanks, that was...fun" I sputtered as I grateful slid off the saddle. He said something to me with a big ol' smile on his face but my head was pounding with adrenaline and I didn't hear him. I toddled back to the walkover and stumbled up the stairs and finally made it to my room. I collapsed into bed and repeatedly gave thanks for being alive.
I bet you are thinking I learned a lesson about lying, aren't you? Well nope, you are wrong...but I will share more of that another day.