I was never into horses. My earliest memory of them was when I was five. My father took me to a company picnic back when he was still working Acer. They had a pony ride booth. My dad brought me over and we waited in line. When it was our turn, a clown wearing a cowboy hat lifted me and put me on the saddle. It was a brown horse, what else can I say about it. No real distinguishing marks that I can remember.
The clown led the horse down a dirt path, through some cones and then back around. It didn't take very long. I remember the motion of my body swaying side to side, through my hips, as the horse moved. I patted its back. It felt smooth and oily. I leaned forward and wrapped both arms around its neck. The horse snorted and I giggled (I was five remember). The clown turned back around walked up next to me and smiled. "Sorry, but you can't do that." So I sat back upright.
When the ride was over, my dad asked how was it. "It was great," I said.