Bacon Busters
Barefoot boys, one angry sow, and a pig pen rodeo you won’t forget.
When Rodeo Came to Pearl Street
We weren’t just kids—we were adrenaline scientists. After one too many viewings of the Miami Rodeo, Dennis and I had an idea that would go down in Glover legend: turn our family hog pen into a full-fledged rodeo arena. Suzy Q, the sow with attitude, was about to become our four-legged bronco.
The Birth of Bacon Bustin’
We didn’t call it hog riding. We called it Bacon Bustin’—and we meant business. From barbed wire near-misses to belly flops in the mud, every ride was an epic. Dennis still holds the record at the Pearl Street Corral—though I claim it was a mud-assisted asterisk win.
Rodeo Rules and the A-Frame Launchpad
The pig pen had its own entrance strategy. First, sneak in through the E Street gate. Climb the old dead tree. Shimmy onto the tin A-frame shed. Wait for the signal.
Then? One thundering bang on the shed and BOOM—you launched from the roof like a cowboy missile onto the back of a startled, squealing hog.
No reins. No saddle. No second chances.
Epic Rides and Muddy Legends
We learned to time it just right: “Wait for the squeal, but jump before the snort.”
Barry looked like a mud mop. Randy flew off into a pile of “maybe mud.” Marlon somehow ended up riding backward, waving like a parade queen.
And Creason? He lasted three full seconds and gave a sponsor speech worthy of a Wheaties box.
Then Dad Came Home Early…
Just as the pen turned into a demolition derby, Dad showed up on the porch.
“You boys get off that hog! You’re runnin’ all the weight off! That hog’s already got less bacon than last week’s breakfast!”
Caught in the act, we trudged to the weeping willow to choose our tactical regret switches.
Dad just shook his head and said with a grin:
“Next time y’all wanna go rodeo, bring a helmet, some common sense, and a tetanus shot.”
Then he popped a Werther’s, nodded like a man who’d seen it all, and walked off barefoot like Clint Eastwood in overalls.
Lessons Learned in the Pig Pen
We walked away smelly, sore, and deeply satisfied.
That summer, we learned two things:
Hogs don’t forget.
And bacon? Bacon holds a grudge.
We thought Bacon Bustin’ was the peak.
We were wrong.
Because the next day… we met the goose.
And Dennis? He never saw it coming.
What’s the Craziest Thing You Rode as a Kid?
Pig? Bike? Shopping cart tied to a dirt bike? We want to hear it. Share your best “What were we thinking?” ride at facebook.com/RealChatRat. Bonus points if it involved livestock, mud, or your dad saying, “You better not tell your mama.”