The Fly Goes Redneck

You all know that I'm a bit of a country boy at heart; I enjoy vacationing in Wyoming, I have no desire to move up to Metropolis and sell my soul, I love going shooting, I drive a little SUV, and I wear Carhartt jeans most of the time.

Just a few blocks off of the [Generic University] campus is a Christian co-op that occupies an old fraternity house. A couple of years ago, less than two months before I went to England, I took a girl to their barn dance (I kept calling it a drunken barn dance, but there was no actual alcohol involved) on our first date. One of the highlights of the evening was when I handed my jacket to my date and mounted (get your minds out of the gutter, people) the mechanical bull. You can see Young Nathan there in the background.

Now, although there were engineering students at the house, these guys had neither the time, nor the money, nor the inclination to rent an actual mechanical bull. So what's the next best thing? Four stout wooden poles erected, with cross-beams connecting them to form two individual units. From those units, four sturdy ropes were fastened, and then fastened to a barrel, upon which a saddle blanket was tied. Finally, another rope or cable was attached, to give an individual the capability of bucking the barrel.

Did the Fly stay on for eight seconds? Hardly. I hit the protective hay after less than the eight seconds. Laughs were had, but I'll be damned if my date didn't look at me with a brighter glint in her eye, and a little more respect after that one

Say it with me now: I am the Fly, and I rule.