Biff America: Covered in horse poop |

Biff America: Covered in horse poop

Jeffrey Bergeron

Sometimes things just go your way. I’m not sure whether it is luck, biorhythms, God or Karma, but some days everything goes according plans.

Then there are also days like last Thursday.

The day began badly then ended up with me bleeding and lying in a pile of horse manure. It is not my intention to waste words wallowing in self pity but some explanation is necessary.

I was obligated to attend a three-hour meeting which began at 9 a.m. I hoped to sneak in a bicycle ride beforehand. When I took my steed off the rack, I noticed one tire was flat. In my haste to change it I scraped my knuckles and cut a finger. With the blood and swearing, I was delayed enough to a point where I knew would not have the time.

After showering, and bandaging my hand, I jumped on my motor-scooter and headed to town. The gathering was casual so I was wearing shorts. I’ve been riding bicycles and motorcycles almost my entire life, but until that day I have never had a bee fly up my pant leg. It would have been a good day to be wearing underwear.

The bug was extremely agitated and stung me several times before I could pull over, dismount and shake out my shorts. I should point out before I did that I attempted to kill the insect by slapping myself vigorously in the groin while still driving my Vespa.

If any of you have ever sat through a three-hour meeting with bee stings on sensitive spots you will understand when I say the conference seemed to run a little long.

After arriving home I received a message that a column that I had submitted a month ago to a magazine back east – a column that the editor said he liked – now was thought not to be funny enough. They asked that I put in some more “funny stuff” by the end of the day.

A home remedy for bee sting is to apply vinegar to the site. In case you are wondering if this works, I’m here to tell you in addition to making you smell like Greek salad, vinegar does in fact reduce the swelling. But it does not make you funny.

Despite the lack of comedic properties of vinegar, I finished my rewrite and put on some loose shorts to go on my long delayed ride.

The sun was low in the sky and a slight breeze cooled my sweat and resting after a long climb, things began to look up.

Where I grew up only the cops had horses, so I’m not a horse person. But to see someone who knows what they’re doing cantering a huge beast across a meadow is beautiful to watch. The girls looked to be teens. They were coming from the direction that I was planning to ride. I waited and watched as they approached.

They stopped on top just next to me. Their obvious pleasure in their pastime was contagious. We talked for a minute and parted company.

I’m not sure how often a horse poops. I didn’t notice any as I road down the hill they had just climbed. In fact, the only poop pile I noticed was the one I was lying in after my front wheel hit a hole and I was thrown over the handlebars.

My elbow and leg were cut, my bike slightly damaged and my shirt badly stained.

The ride home was long but then again it always seems longer when you are covered with manure.

I was fresh out of the shower when my oldest and dearest friend, Bobby Clete, called.

Bobby and I met in first grade and have been friends ever since. Last summer, I flew back east to perform the ceremony for his third wedding. If I were asked to describe my friend in five words I’d say happy, funny, tough and brutally-frank.

He also knows me better than anyone, with the exception of my mate.

After we exchanged some pleasantries and took care of some business involving a reunion the two of us are planning this summer, he asked what I had been up to.

With the frustration of my horrible day fresh in my mind I told him my tale of woe. Actually in the retelling it seemed even worse the second time around.

After I finished the story with me riding home covered with poop and bleeding, Bobby asked, “Do you have cancer.” When I said, “No.”

Bobby then said, “Well in that case, shut up”

Sometimes what you need most after a bad day is a little perspective.

Jeffrey Bergeron, under the alias of Biff America, can be seen on RSN TV and read in several newspapers and magazines. He can be reached at

Biff’s book “Steep, Deep and Dyslexic” is available from local book stores or from

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