"Fortune favors the Brave" Quote and photo compliments of http://probullstats.com/bull-riding.php

Onect up in the panhandle of Texas a friend of mine and I went to a rodeo. Welp, he just wanted to get drunk and have a good time but I wanted to make a fortune. We went to the office to register and draw my bull. I paid my money, mostly what I had left from all the beer and chewing tobacco and motor oil we had to buy...and reached in the bull- jar and drew out #4.

That created a little stir because I soon found out that #4 had a bad reputation, was nasty, mean and that most people who drew him cancelled.

Not me though, hell it was an opportunity to get rich. I soon became the focus of the arena and strangers were quick to tell me how many riders had been thrown off "Long's number 4 Bull." Now that was not very reassuring and soon I went about my own business avoiding social contacts and if confronted preferred to remain silent and sullen worried that the frown on my face might give away the nagging discomfort in the pit of my stomach.

Well, to make a long story short, it came my time and as soon as I sat down on that bull I knew I was in trouble. He did not bat an eye. He did not twitch a muscle. He was just coiled into a huge spring of savage lightning and thunder filled with murderous rage. I pulled my hat down, questioned my decision and nodded to the gate opener. I don't rember much after that but bits and flashes that lasted for what seemed like forever. After an eternity of participating in primordal fury I heard a distant Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. Thank God, but the worst was yet to come. I released my grip and went flying into the air, seeing bits and pieces of horns, stars, dirt and after another long period of being underneath a stomping, bucking maniac, I partially passed out. Of course there was great elation and electricity in the air and as I was being led away, I wiped the blood out of my eye, spit a lot of dirt out of my mouth and stopped, a couple of seconds, to savor the moment, because for an instant, for a very brief moment, the twinkle of a star, I was a hero, a winner. I never had that feeling again in my long and eventful life.

Yes, my friend and I were happy because I had made 48 dollars go-round money and we had plenty of beer and chewing tobacco that night and sometime in that dreamlike night of drinking and dancing, we managed to find our old Ford, stumbled into a dead horse, opened the passenger side doors because the dead horse was too close to the car, laid on the seats and passed out. Next morning came way too quick, and we soon discovered that we were broke again.