The scatological terms for this excrement were many and varied: strangely enough, many were food analogies - "road apples" from the horses, "raisins" from the sheep, "cow pies" from the cattle. Ranny hadn't heard any unusual terms for the pig turds, and he really didn't care what people called the stuff. To him, it all stunk, and it was all shit.
Engrossed as he was in thinking about the coming day's work, Ranny gave little thought to his driving as he coasted down the curb lane, preparing to make the right turn in through the lower gate leading to the employee and exhibitor parking area beyond the barns. Suddenly, he slammed on his brakes and cursed as a truck coming the other way made a wide left turn and cut in through the gate in front of him. Ranny was so close he could hear the frantic stomping as a horse inside the trailer tried to keep its footing through the sudden turn. With both hands clenching the wheel, Ranny didn't even have time to give the other driver the finger. But he saw her, with her perfectly-coifed blond hair, staring straight ahead as though she was the only person on the road that morning - but Ranny knew very well that she had seen him. She had just figured that he'd be intimidated by the rig she was driving, and she was right.
This was one type of exhibitor which Ranny hated with a passion. Even if she had been a nice person, he would have loathed her for the ostentatious display of wealth evidenced by the outfit she drove. The truck was the biggest model of pickup, with a custom-built cab and dressed up with custom moldings on fenders, roof line, and pickup bed sides. It had tens of thousands of dollars worth of custom equipment outside and in. The long horse trailer behind matched it perfectly, with the same size and style of fancy chrome wheels as the truck, a roof-mounted air conditioner to keep the horses cool. Truck and trailer were painted to match in a deep forest green, and Ranny knew guys in the Mission District who would have killed to get the paint jobs on their lowrider Chevys finished to the degree of perfection on this horse truck and trailer. And of course, the doors of the truck were emblazoned in gold script, but tastefully, with the words, "Windmere Stables, Woodside, California". Too bad his brakes hadn't failed - it would have been worth it to see the look on that haughty bitch's face when she saw the side of her beautiful truck caved in.