My Wife Locked out So I'm Helping

Lance Armstrong and his buddy brushed past me in some little town or other on the RAGBRAI route. It could have been Washington, Iowa or an earlier town, and all I noticed was Lance’s Asian or half-Asian buddy. Plus I was fascinated by Lance’s jersey. It was a crazy jumble of letters that reminded me of E=MC squared only it wasn’t. He turned his head away in the nick of time so I didn’t realize who he was. I was within inches of the man. I would have loved to have done an interview. And I’m sure he would have loved not to have been interviewed.

Lance traveled incognito and he was there for RAGBRAI, for a ride with his people, not as the famous and then infamous Lance Armstrong. When people leave him alone, he’s more likely to come back. Maybe he can rehabilitate himself by being left alone. I am sorry I missed the interview, but in a way, I’m glad. I hope he had a good time among his people, bicyclists on the RAGBRAI route.

Riding Ole the Bull in Humeston was riding a slice of Iowa. Ole, as it turned out, was a real bull despite the fake bulls that preceded him by way of advertising. Ole is Jason’s pet. Jason is a very handsome farm man who I long to call cowboy because he was dressed as one, but except for his bull handling skills, he can’t be a cowboy, can he? Maybe he can.

Before I rode him, I carefully observed the bull. He would carelessly toss up a bale of hay with his horns at spectators standing close to him. They would back up. But he didn’t seem mean. He was eating. I watched kids mount him and get off unharmed. I’m brave but not stupid.

When Jason called for volunteers, no one stepped forward. So I did. I told Jason and his cowboy helper that I had artificial hips and would need some help. Actually, I was just afraid that the bull and the saddle were too tall for me and I might need some help to mount him in any case. Jason and his friend hoisted me up to the saddle and I held on to the pommel or whatever that thing is that you grab onto so you stay on the saddle. I felt the immense power of Ole and saw the hump on his back that I’d been looking for.

Why could I only see Ole’s hump from the saddle?

I’d asked a teenaged girl to take photos with my camera so I’d have my own chronicle of the somewhat unlikely event of me riding a bull.

Jason told me he was going to carry me off the saddle and to put my arm around his neck. No problem, sir! In a minute I was down on the ground.

Ole was getting restless and Jason had to speak to him while I was on him. He started to head out of his pen. I think Ole had to take a breather after carrying me.

Jason must be awfully kind to Ole to get him to put up with the crowd and letting strangers sit on him. Jason had his hand on the rope around Ole’s neck the whole time. He didn’t charge for rides. Someone told me that Jason has taken Ole to the fair, too. I’ll bet you that Ole never does turn into hamburger or steak. Somebody loves that bull too much to let that happen.

-- Maria Houser Conzemius