Sometime in the early 1970s, my parents returned from Colorado to the East Coast to visit with family and to take care of unfinished business after our nine-month trip. Once we got there, my Aunt Cindy asked us to transport two horses to a show. So, my dad picked up a two-horse trailer.

At the last minute, Aunt Cindy also asked us if we could pick up a pony they had just purchased in Chintogue at “Pony Penning Day.”

My dad looked at the trailer and looked at the space in the front where tack and supplies usually go. Dad figured ponies were small and one would probably fit in this small space up front. He carefully cut an access door on the side and added additional hooks for tie-downs.

Once we got to where we were to pick up the pony, Dad was unpleasantly surprised to find that the pony was much larger than he expected and it would not fit in the new space in the trailer!

So we improvised.

We built a ramp out of spare plywood and 2x4s to go up the steps to our motorhome. We threw down rain slickers, old blankets and hay on the floor in the back of the motorhome. With much pushing, shoving and cajoling from my dad and several other strong helpers, we got the pony into the back of the bus.

From there, we drove to our next destination, which was an FMCA rally. We arrived late and found a spot to park for the night. My parents and I slept up front, but my sister slept in back with the pony. What other 9-year-old girl could brag that she slept with a pony!

The next morning, we were all wakened with a loud whinny from the pony announcing that it was time to relieve himself. The rally attendees knew the Guenthers were truly crazy, seeing my dad shoveling manure out our back window!