Mules and Progress

One of my fondest memories in recent years was listening to my Dad and late Aunt Evelyn talk about riding the family mule, Kate, when they were kids.  They absolutely hated having to ride it, but, if the old Model A wasn't available, the mule was all there was for transportation.  Apparently, it was a fairly rough ride, especially if there was more than one rider.

One generation made a huge difference.  I'm more than grateful.  Sure, my travel memories come from brakes going out, coolant hoses rupturing, ignition coils, vapor-locked engines, and other automotive-related issues, but at least there was air conditioning and a mode of transportation that would go where you wanted instead of where it wanted.

My father's generation was probably the last one in this country to witness working animals to any significant degree.  There are places in the world still capable of relating to riding a mule.  America, for better or worse, isn't one of them.