What would you do if you saw a loose horse galloping down the middle of a busy street? This isn’t a hypothetical question from an equestrian game show. It’s a question I had to ask myself last weekend.
In a few seconds the horse leapt off the bridle path and began trotting like a Standardbred in the street, parallel to the traffic. I pulled my truck to the curb, along with a few other drivers. But amazingly (or not, considering the mindset of drivers in Southern California) most people just kept on their merry way, barely slowing down. Few gave any leeway to the horse.
As I trailed slowly behind the horse—a ragamuffin little bay gelding decked out in tack pieced together from mismatched parts—I asked myself, “What should I do?”
I wanted to run out into the traffic myself, arms outstretched and tell everyone, “Just stop!”
The traffic was, from the horse’s point of view, herding it. That famed fight or flight instinct was propelling the horse further down the street, toward the busy intersection dissected by freeway on-and-off ramps. I figured at any moment the horse would alter its course and dart directly into the path of a car or truck.
Yet the cars and trucks kept coming, mostly at or above the 35 mph speed limit. That’s when the horse broke into a gallop. I drove along slowly, hoping and praying he’d pause for a rest in the parking lot of the neighborhood grocery store. I had Wally’s bridle in the backseat. I hatched this impromptu plan where I’d corral the horse between parked cars and then loop the reins over his neck to catch him. But that plan never came to fruition because the horse suddenly veered into the center lane. He looked determined to cross over into oncoming traffic.
Was I going to see a horse get slaughtered on the street right in front of me?
Just when I wasn’t sure whether to close my eyes or run out into the traffic myself, a silver pickup truck came blasting past me. A young woman was driving and a heavy-set man was in the bed of the pickup, standing up and leaning over the edge of the truck bed. They drove furiously, weaving through traffic. They caught up to the galloping horse, shadowing its every move. Now they, too, were careening into oncoming traffic, crossing over lines and stripes in the asphalt.
Would the horse spook, slip and skid on the street? Would the man fall out of the back of the truck and get run over? Would the galloping horse swerve and run into the path of another vehicle?
Nope. Like a scene from a blockbuster movie, the silver truck pulled alongside the frantic bay. Then the man, teetering over the rim of the truck bed, reached out and grabbed the dangling end of a broken rein. Once he had a hold of the strap of leather, he began to pull the horse to a trot, and the truck’s driver slowed down. Within a few moments, the horse and truck came to a stop in the middle of the thoroughfare. The man hopped out, gave the horse a pat on the neck, and led him across the street back to the horse trail.
I couldn’t believe what I had witnessed. I’ve seen a lot of things throughout my life with horses. But never have I come so close to witnessing a tragic accident, only to have it averted by a “Mission: Impossible” stunt.
I don’t know anything more about the horse or how it came to be galloping loose on the busiest street in town. I’m not sure whether it was the unseated rider or a Good Samaritan who played the Hollywood cowboy and saved it. But it certainly gave me something to think about during my day judging the show. What would I do the next time I saw a loose horse galloping down the middle of a busy street?
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