Actually, there was a second fall. A month after Figero first sent me flying, I decided to try again. I rationalized all the first missteps -- his and mine. There were too many distractions then. This time would be different. I was wrong. Instantly, he reared again, and I decided to exit. I rolled off him and hit the ground rolling. No damage, this time, not to my body anyway. But faith in myself and in him evaporated. From then on, I rode only with someone else and then only with a line attached to his halter. Three years of that taught neither of us anything. It wasn't fun either.