Approximate date: June 1962
Main Characters: Dickie Whitaker (10), Bob White (6) and David (10)
Introduction. Bob White was dark brown and white, chubby, and small even by Shetland pony standards. He appeared on an Easter morning decked out with a headdress on the top of his bridle in a harness attached to a blue and white pony cart. Dad got him as a gift for my brother Rob and me. I was 7 or 8 so Rob was 4 or 5.
One of my all-time favorite movies was Ben Hur. The most exciting part by far was the chariot race. How magnificent was Charlton Heston riding his chariot at breakneck speed around the arena! Surely, my parents knew or should have known that I, now with my very own horse and chariot, at some point in time, was going to attempt to emulate Ben Hur.
I did not want to do such an exciting adventure on my own. So, one day when my companion and closest white neighbor (about 1 mile as the crow flies), Dickie Whitaker was over and the folks were not around, we decided to have a chariot race. Bob White was a powerful little horse and when he was fired up, he was quite fast and not easily controlled. We did not have two chariots to race each other. So, the best we could come up with was to each take a turn and see who could finish the fastest in going completely around the yard. (Our yard was about 4 acres.) We agreed on the specific route to follow. I don’t think we had watches, so it was a matter of the one on the ground counting. The starting point was next to the big pecan tree between the kitchen door and the orchard.
I went first. I had a buggy whip and when Dickie said, “1 2 3 GO!”, I whacked Bob White and off he flew. It was the fastest I had ever been in the pony cart. I was standing up and was nearly bounced out a couple of times – but I rounded every barrier and whizzed past the starting point with no casualties. I circled Bob White a time or two in the main yard, brought him to a full stop, then got out and handed the reins to Dickie. He told me how many seconds he had counted, and I accepted it as accurate.
It was now Dickie’s turn to beat my time. We could have waited to give the little horse a breather, but it was clear to both of us that Bob White was raring to go again. So, Dickie got in and took the reins. He lined Bob White up on the starting point with the buggy whip in hand and I said, “1 2 3 GO!”. No need for the whip; Bob White shot off like a rocket. Dickie lost his balance and fell down in the cart but quickly got back up. From that point on, Dickie’s only concern was getting Bob White under control. I could hear him shouting at the top of his lungs “Whoa Bob White, Whoa God Damn it!” as he circled the house. In a matter of seconds, Bob White came flying across the back yard and Dickie was nowhere to be seen. He had fallen into the bed of the cart. I jumped out of the way as Bob White came hurtling toward the big pecan tree. Bob White missed the tree by a foot. The cart was 5 feet wide. The left wheel slammed into the tree and the entire wheel carriage flipped-out from under the cart so that the cart bed landed on the ground with the two wheels behind it. Dickie got thrown through the air and hit the ground off to the side. Bob White and the harness separated from the remains of the cart and he ran around until he finally wore himself out. Dickie was banged up a bit but not hurt that badly.
Amazingly, the pony cart was not completely destroyed. Dad took it to Ned Cavin, who was a master welder out near Buffalo, and Ned repaired it.
I don’t remember Dad punishing me for this. I believe that Dad’s perspective was this is what boys were supposed to do if they were going to grow up to be real men.