Sugar’s Run

Sugar’s Run
by Terry Burres

We had never been camping before. My mom and dad bravely took four children between nine years and twenty one months old camping in a tent. Yes, we were young but mom and dad were always adventuresome. They loaded the station wagon with a tent, cook stove, cooler, lantern, bedding, food, other assorted essentials, and four kids.

We headed for a two week vacation at an Indiana state park with the Indian name Shaqamac. The park was far enough away to reach before four kids could drive two adults crazy. It was also close enough to get home in case of an emergency. It was the first over night vacation that we had ever taken. We were so excited that we could hardly sit still for the two hour ride.

We finally arrived at the park and were looking for the camp grounds when we passed a riding stables. I have been ‘horse crazy’ for as long as I could remember. The prospect walking over to pet a horse or two just thumped my nine year old heart. My brother and sister called my parents attention to the horses. There was a sign that advertised trail and pony rides. The camp ground’s sign pointed
straight ahead.

After driving to the other side of the lake we found the perfect spot for our tent. I became resigned to only dreaming about horses. I knew that the stables were to far away for my parents to let me hike over to them. If I were lucky I may see a horse as some one else rode through the woods that surrounded our camp site.

After we had the camp setup and put all our gear away; my mom and dad had a surprise. They headed us all in the station wagon to take a look around the park. We rode to the beach to walk in the sand. Mom and dad decided that it was to late to swim. After getting into the car once more we rode through the woods until we reached the stables. Instead of heading back to camp dad turned the car into the barn’s yard. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I was going to get to pet the horses and ponies.

There was a pony hitched to a cart. While mom took us over to pet the pony; dad talked to the man in charge of the stables. When they walked over to the rest of us my dad told me, my sister, and my baby brother to get in the cart. We were going to take a ride.

The man who took care of the horses told my mom that the pony, Sugar, would go to the end of the path, turn right onto a little dirt road, go to the end that turned around a large pine tree and then come back to the stables. According to the man Sugar could make the trip on it’s own. I didn’t care how tame a ride it was. I was going to get to drive the cart. With a whistle and a smack on it’s rump our ride began.

I was riding on top of the world. It was the greatest thing this side of a pony of my own. As we turned right at the end of the pat through the trees before us stretched a long, long path with a tall pine tree at the end. My sister and brother wanted Sugar to go faster. They started to yell. My sister, who was sitting in the middle, used the strap that had been used to tie Sugar at the barn to hit her on the flanks.

That pony started to trot faster, then even faster. My brother and sister screamed. Sugar went even faster. I was pulling on the reins, but I just couldn’t get her to slow down. I was afraid that the pony would run into the tree. I was trying to turn Sugar so that she wouldn’t hit the tree. I’ll never know if my pulling on the reins turned Sugar in a tight circle around the tree;or, if she would have turned by herself. The cart hit a bump in the road. The cart tipped up on one wheel spilling the three of us onto the ground.

I was the one tossed the furthest. All I remember was sailing through the air. My sister hit the edge of the grass. My little brother was hurt the worst. He was skinned on his right side from head to toe. My sister picked him up and started carrying back the way we had come. When I came to and could stand she was half way back down the road.

My mom and dad had started running as soon as the pony came back without us. Dad grabbed my brother. Mom, who was carrying the baby, put her arm around my sister. The man from the stables helped me as I stumbled down the road.

We were given directions to the nearest town. The doctor that my dad found was in a walk up in a rather run down building. He was a gruff person with gentle hands. We were all checked out and even though there were bumps, scrapes, and bruises we hadn’t broken anything.

The park stables picked up the doctor’s bills. My brother, with the help from the doctor’s magic ointment, was swimming before the end of the week. My sister became a hero for carrying our brother. Me? Well I spent the rest of that first
camping trip reliving my first time driving a pony cart. You know it really was very exciting until we hit that bump in the road.