Sam & Leslie & Prince & Dad

I did something last weekend that I don't do often enough: ride with my dad.

He took me on a six-mile loop on the most glorious of early summer days. The ground squirrels came out of their tunnels and stood tall on their hind legs checking us out. Dozens of them. Peering at us with their beady little eyes.

Sam and Prince carried us to the top of a nearby ridge and the 360 degree view was spectacular. The weather was perfect for riding, too, upper 60s and sunny. This meant we could ride without jackets and it wasn't misery for the horses.

Sam is very good to me. Yes, Sam the horse. He knows I'm an occasional rider and he lets me think I'm in charge even though we both know he is. I give him conflicting riding commands and he does nothing, just waiting for me to get it right so he knows what I mean. You can see what a novice I am from the picture: I'm wearing a helmet.

My dad has been an active camper, hiker and backpacker since we moved to California in 1969. He enjoys the horses because they take him places not easily reached by foot. After the peacefulness of the ride I see his point. I still do not understand, however, why I was so sore the next day when Sam did all the work.