Gravel down pants?

Last weekend, I coerced my husband into coming to ride horses with me. I had two to work, and too much research to spend time at the barn riding both of them separately. They also both needed mental arena breaks (me too!), and the dogs needed a good long walk.

Who am I kidding. There is no need to justify an hour long road hack on a 70° day in March.

So we tacked up the two horses. I put Christian on Guinness, and I took Darius. Guinness isn't really a dead broke trail horse, but I trust his shenanigans enough to put a greenie aboard. At least, I trust him enough if we stay on the road...

After all, we've been walking roads for years. Pig's best friend was once the FedEx guy!

Of course, riding on the roads can never be 100% safe, especially when the horse you are on doesn't have the years of experience of mine. Take, for example, the horse I was on.

Who? Me?

As we came up on a rather steep hill, an older man on a four-wheeler and a younger boy on a dirt bike crested the hill.

This hill, to be exact.
(Okay, okay. I know it's not really very steep. But it's, like, the ONLY hill in this part of Indiana. It's steep by comparison!)

Luckily the guys were nice enough to idle the engines and slow way down. As Darius started rearing and spinning under me, I took quick note that Guinness was not even giving the wheeled horse-eating monsters a second glance. Instead, he was carefully scanning the perimeter, as if trying to figure out what in the hell could be so terrifying to Darius. My husband was sitting hunched over, holding on to the saddle and waiting for something to happen. Nothing did.

Meanwhile, I felt Darius think about going from spinning to bolting, and I decided to jump off to avoid leaving Christian stranded with a worried Guinness. In the process of kicking my feet free, my left foot ended up getting stuck in the stirrup. So, I slow-fell onto my butt into the soft wet gravel.

It honestly didn't even hurt.

Darius bolted all of 10 yards, before remembering that I'm the nice lady with the treats. He turned right around to be caught.

The guys with the four-wheeler and the bike actually killed their engines for the whole thing and just sat quietly in the road. They were so respectful and wonderful; I must have thanked them a million times for being so great.

We ended up walking to the top of the hill, where I got back on. As soon as I got into the saddle, I realized there was a problem.

Guys. My pants were full of gravel.

Wet.

Heavy.

Gravel.

I did the only thing you can do in such a situation: I rode the two and half miles back to the barn with gravel down my pants.

And that's the story of how I had to take my breeches off on the back porch. You're welcome.

No pictures of the gravel in my pants (sorry?), but I did snap some photos from the ride. Enjoy!

Yes. My husband is flipping me off here for taking his photo, but isn't my horse ADORABLE?!

Happy Pig takes big huge walk steps! (And yet still forges...)

It makes me happy to see my horse so happy.
Don't lie. You think this looks fun, too. Maybe not Gravel Down Your Pants fun, but still.