I filled my tank up with gas not planning on going anywhere, but as luck would have it, I apparently got the gas with the water in it or something because my car immediately started hesitating.
I went to Auto Zone and grabbed some gas treatment and added it to my car. Then I decided that I should probably get on the interstate and burn it all out. Joke was on me. My fancy car is pretty good on gas. I ended up heading toward the mountains. I really only have 2 directions when stressed out. Mountains or beach. I had already decided against the beach a day earlier so the mountains it was.
I drove toward Sevierville. In the midst of my pointless drive, I thought, “I should go horseback riding.” I’ve actually never ridden a horse. Not for real. I think maybe once when I was very young I’d been on on, but I couldn’t really remember. I wasn’t really feeling bad, bad. I still had the bad taste in my mouth from Flea Market Guy, but it’s a taste I’m definitely familiar with. I’ve been dealing with it for the last year and truth be told, I’m probably not done dealing with it because despite what I say, I love the guy and I’ll likely continue to.
So I googled, “horseback riding near me” and bought myself a ticket and headed that way. I was trying really hard to practice self love. I had already taken myself to brunch. A horse ride seemed like a great idea. Horses are like over sized dogs and dogs always make you feel better, therefore, horses must really make you feel better.
So off I went to take a horse down the old town road. A great horse named Attaboy. We were on a horse trail with 10 other horses (and people). I guess that was good for a first timer, but I’ve ridden hundreds of horses in my mind and I was pretty confident that I’d be great at it. I was right. I was a rock star at going 3 miles an hour on the back of a horse that basically needed no direction. The ride was 3.5 miles some ups and some downs. A lot like life. You just have to lean into it. It wasn’t as fulfilling as I had hoped but it was checked off the bucket list.
After Attaboy and I said our goodbyes (which is always hard to do, for me, not him), I got in my hesitant car and kept on driving up the mountain.
I made it to Gatlinburg before the wind blew and told me that I needed to go ride the chair lift to the top of the mountain and maybe take a walk across an extension bridge built in the tree canopy. This is where I should mention that despite my death defying acts of going up in cranes and ziplining and whatnot, I’m pretty terrified of heights.
So I get on the chair lift and head on up the mountain. I don’t think the engineers thought the chair lifts through. The bars that come down over your lap to protect you from falling out don’t actually lock and definitely don’t protect you from jumping out at 100 feet. Not that I was planning on pulling an Epstein or anything, it was just a thought I had on the way back down when I was being harassed by an unusually large mountain bumble bee. I thought, “what’s worse? This fucking guy freaking me out or plummeting to my death to get away from him?” Needless to say, I put up with his shit and made it out alive.
While I was at the top they had a botanical garden, a beer garden, a beer truck, a food truck, a restaurant, a zip line and the extension bridges/trails. I only did the botanical garden trail and the extension bridge trail. It was super hot and I was supposed to be running the gas out of my car. Not running myself to empty. But all in all, it was a pretty good way to spend a day alone. Here are some pictures….
Until next time.
RouletteWeekend 