Being the attentive parent that she is, Mom noticed that I had developed a pink rash on the inside of my thighs caused by the friction of my "Sacky Joe" rubbing against them.
Deciding that she has to somehow treat me for this horrible affliction, which isn't bothering me but an occasional lick or two, Mom goes to her handy first-aid kit and returns with a fresh tube of good ol' medicated Gold Bond. After applying a healthy portion to the inside of my thighs, the ride of my life began!
I remember the moment vividly. I'm penned in the stall. An invisible rider jumps on my back and secures a good grip on flat braided rope. Then comes the cinching of the flank strap. The gate on the bucking chute opens and I storm out into the arena. Knowing that the imaginary rider has to stay mounted for at least eight seconds to qualify, I literally go "ball-istic" trying to throw the rider off!
Then out comes rodeo clown, Rodger the Dodger, who adds more fun to the excitement. Not only does it feel like my "down unders" are on fire (aka the "Red Bag of Courage"), I now have to contend with this menacing little joker who finds great amusement biting my ankles as well as other sensitive dangling body "participles."
While I am no forensic scientist, my best guess is that the tube of Gold Bond must have been laced with Jalapeno peppers. One thing is for certain, I can relate to the phrase "Fire on the mountain, run boys run!"
Although the entire incident lasted only seconds before Mom broke out the baby wipes and cleaned "the boys" off, it felt like an eternity at the time. You can only imagine how "nuts" the situation truly was.