The younger you are, the more advice you get from others. The older you get, the more advice you give to others. We can all look back and wish that we could have heeded the advice of the wiser among us.
When I was young and heartbroken, my mother told me that I would just have to “let it go”. When I lost my first job at Antonio’s Flying Pizza, I was upset and my friend told me that I would have to “let it go”. When I wrecked my first car, my grandfather said he was glad that I wasn’t hurt and that I would just have to “let it go”. He reminded me that he gave me that car and he would have to let it go too. He advised me to slow down.
Several years ago, I was in Arizona at a family gathering. One afternoon, my brother Randy suggested that all of us go to the arena and ride a bull. My older brother used to ride and Randy used to ride. I wasn’t about to be left out of this enterprise. My mother advised me not to do it. Don’t ride the bull. “You’ll get hurt”.
We got there and by this time we had quite an audience. I spoke up and insisted that I go first. While they were gathering up a bull, Dad and I were talking about the young riders. He told me that most riders, when they first start out, can’t stay on very long because they can’t see. Their vision goes black. I’m thinking yea, whatever.
They pinned up a bull and while they were getting it ready for the ride, I went around to size up the competition. I didn’t know he was going to be so big. I stood across the gate from him and was looking him in the eyes. Randy assured me that Pudd’n was one of the most docile of the bulls in the group. I’m thinking yea, whatever.
I got up on Pudd’n and they tied my hand in. By then I was getting plenty of advice… lean back…hold on tight…lean further back… keep your hand up. It was all a flood. Too late now…
They opened the gate… Dad yelled and something interesting happened. I lost my sense of hearing and of site. It all went black. I was aware of my motions, but I couldn’t hear or see anything!
It wasn’t a long ride. It wasn’t a pretty ride. Pudd’n went right and I went south. I was sliding violently off to the side. I didn’t know what I else to do but to hold on... you’re supposed to hold on tight right? Before I knew it I was on the ground (and under the bull). I reflexively went into a protective fetal position.
The bull’s last kick, and the most vital one, caught the inside of my ankle and carried my leg to the outside and against the side of my head. My legs aren’t supposed to work like that. It was over. Happily, I immediately regained my sight and hearing. I watched Pudd’n trot off proudly through the dust.
I hopped up but noticed that my right knee felt a little watery… it didn’t fit like it was supposed to. I was sure that I could shake it off. Dad patted the dust off of me and told me that if I had let go of the rope earlier, I wouldn’t have ended up under the bull. Once again, I’m thinking yea, whatever.
My leg stiffened up like an ironing board. I walked around like Festus on Gunsmoke for over a month. It would have been less painful just to have a doctor take it off just below the hip.
I think about things a little more these days. I take more time to consider my actions. I also listen to advice… good and bad. I don’t regret riding the bull. It was a wonderful experience and I was definitely the entertainment for the crowd for the next few days while there.
My advice to you is to not ride a bull unless you are a bull rider. Don’t do it… But if you insist, be sure and get “the docile one in the group”.
I should have heeded the advice I had heard all of my life… Let it go… let it go… let it go… in this case, “let go of that rope”.
Shannon R Killman
