My Old Goat turns 62 today. He is strong as an ox and never shows pain – my daughters seem to have inherited that from him. I sometimes feel I’m in the wrong family – I was clearly in the wrong queue when VASBYT was being handed out.
But I wouldn’t change him (or my daughters) for anything. He is quite happy to trot along slowly with me on the trails for hours on end. Seventeen hours to be precise, even though I am damn sure he could have made that 50-miler in 12 or 13 hours.
He carries a full Camelbak even though he only needs a sip or two every 20 kilometres – the extra water is for me. And when he has to walk slowly for me to catch up he always says he doesn’t mind at all – though I am sure he would love to know what he could do with those trails if I unleashed him!
While I’m waxing lyrical about my OG, let me mention a few of the other reasons for keeping him around – he can change a tyre, kill a snake and open a bottle of wine. And those are not things I’m in a hurry to learn. Happy Birthday Old Goat!