Scott’s Saddle Story #6

Because my Spanish speaking skills are anything but great, I tend to have some miscommunications down at the farm. Here are two of my favorite stories…

1. Early in my time here (but after my injury), a few of the guys at the farm were asking me what I did this past year between when I was here last summer and now. I explained to the best of my ability that I worked in a physical therapy clinic this past year. Especially because this was early on, my Spanish was lacking some key words for explaining what physical therapy is. Basically I was able to communicate that I worked in a clinic and a few other smaller things, but they missed the whole picture. Nevertheless, because I had worked in a clinic, they assumed I must be a professional at giving injections. They asked me that day to be the one to give the injections. Cows do not understand the importance of staying still and calm while receiving an injection, so three bent needles later, they realized I was not the man for the job.

2. The other day, the stirrup broke off from the main part of my saddle. We temporally fixed it with a piece of leather, but after a few problems, we realized it needed a permanent fixing.  Later in the morning yesterday, we found a small nut and bolt that was the right size for the hole but a little too long. We got the nut and bolt placed on the saddle after lunch, but before we were able to cut off a little bit of the end of the bolt that was sticking out, we were rushed to go take care of a problem. Later riding back to the barn, Chele asked me how my leg felt on the saddle. Since the bolt wasn’t bothering my leg at all, I had forgotten about it. Instead, I responded as if he was meaning how my leg had been holding up with so much riding lately since my accident back in early September. So, I explained that there wasn’t any pain in my leg but there was a bump on my bone. To him this made sense about the bolt not causing any pain but forming a bump on the saddle/ stirrup. He then said when we got back, we needed to cut it off. Thinking we were talking about my leg, I laughed and said I’d like to keep it from not being cut off. He then got really serious with me and was adamant that we cut it off. Not wanting my leg cut off but realizing he was serious, I responded in a shocked and firm voice that we were not going to cut off my leg. At this he gave out a massive laugh realizing I was talking about my leg, and at this point, I realized he was talking about the bolt. We laughed the rest of the day about that. Though I knew it before, my experiences on the farm are showing me how universal (and important) laughing is in building relationships.


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