Buckles & Blunders: The Hilarity of Taming a Mechanical Bull

On a muggy Alabama Saturday night in July, I rode a mechanical bull. 

I was attending a friend’s Western-themed 50th birthday party in a big barn out in the middle of Loachapoka. We were headed down County Road 188 when I received a picture of the bull set up. I felt my adrenaline spike. This was my Super Bowl. I had a red dress on and instantly replied that I was going to need to borrow some shorts. I knew I should have worn cutoffs; however, here was an activity I felt pretty good about excelling at. I was never great at team sports as a kid, but if you have hung around the column for a few years, you know I am a horse girl. If you are new to the column, “Hello, I am a horse girl.” My horses have kept me humble over the years, but I have learned to stick sloppy landings, ride with my seat and stay on (9 out of 10 times) during spooky side jumps. That’s when they get you. You are all relaxed, and they spook at the breeze.