There is nothing better than a 5 foot woman driving a Barn Truck and enjoying every minute of it!
Owning a horse or a farm is a way of life. It is one that seeps into the soul. The priorities change dramatically from impeccable dress to functioning informal barn wear. With these changes come the most obvious. The cute sports car needs to be replaced with a full sized truck with the ability to haul 20 tons of horse flesh, tack, and trailer. Home and garage become necessary storing places for the overwhelming equipment needed for a horse, or in my case, horses.
Owning my farm for twelve years and horses for over twenty-five years, I have accumulated a massive amount of tack, clothing and equipment for my horses. I have accepted the term as clean to mean that there are only a few strands of hay floating through the house and dog slobber just gives the house character. I just never realized that my life style has consumed all of my life. When my mom suggested that we get together for lunch, I jumped at the chance to escape the farm and live in a world where people do not get up at 3:30 in the morning to feed the horses, where I can smell wafts of perfume, nails are polished, and beautiful jewelry sparkles in the sunlight.
I drove to my mom’s pristine beautiful home in northern Delaware. My mother is a lover of cleanliness and I grew up as a child in a museum. There was no such thing as dirty in the house. With four children we all had chores and we carried them out with synchronicity every Saturday morning under the watchful eye of my mother. You could eat off of the kitchen, basement and garage floors. Therefore my mother was very upset when I decided to forgo a pristine life for one of perpetual dirt, manure, horse hair, and chaos.
My mother climbed into my truck and took a look around. “How can you drive in this?” she was puzzled, how could the daughter that she had raised to wear Aignne designer boots, Talbot clothes, and Dooney and Bourke purses stoop to this level. What was even worse, I had dirt under my unpainted nails. My hair was tucked under a red baseball cap and I had not a stitch of make up on. We were going to catch lunch and I was going to drive.
“Mom, this is NOT dirty! I just cleaned it. I only have what I need,” I feigned that I was upset with her comment.
She reached into the back seat and grabbed a duffel bag that had whips, britches, a helmet, carrots, and an apple that was beginning to turn brown. Then she pulled the wool cooler off of the floor and a Raise Your Dreams Farm sweatshirt fell from beneath it. She grabbed leather reins and a brand new halter tangled on the floor. She held up the latest horse magazines from the pocket holder on the door under her handle. She started to hold all of these items on her lap.
I started to laugh. She frowned and told me that she was not finished. She reached onto the seat behind me and grabbed a few books that I had meant to give to my students, and then she held up a few ribbons left from the last horse show. My laughter was now uproarious; her frown was beginning to deepen from the impending weight on her lap. Next she glanced in the back of the truck bed and then she started to laugh. It was that type of laugh that tells you that someone is on the brink of breaking.
“Jill! You have two bags of cat food, a couple bags of grain, swimming trunks, water shoes, leadlines, thick ropes for tying hay down, and of course tufts of hay!” she exclaimed.
I shrugged my shoulders and held up my hands. I was guilty of driving a Barn Truck. Owning a horse farm means that one needs to get used to lowering their standards, my idea of clean was painstakingly obvious that it was not hers.
Do you have a barn car or truck? What is in it? What are the reactions of your family and friends when they go for a ride? Please share, we LOVE to hear what you have to say!