reminisces. "So I’m not about to spend the
last half hidin’ from folks ’cause I sold them a bad horse."
Dozens of pictures and thank-you notes taped to the trader’s wall
testify to his fondness for those same folks–and their
apparent fondness for him. He points out each customer by
name, and like a proud father who gave his kid the perfect
present, he describes the horse he found for each purchase
pilgrim. Actress Patty Duke and her husband are two of
Rucker’s "favorite customers." Says Rucker of the famous
family, "They told me ‘you think we’re celebrities, but when
it comes to horses, you’re the celebrity!’"
This is a man who tries his darndest to make horse buying as easy
and pleasant as ordering a Big Mac. Besides the guarantee and
offer of bank-card usage, Rucker serves up used saddles and
bridles, and propane heaters to ward off the cold while
customers watch horses being ridden. His smiling wife, Linda,
provides cups of steaming coffee, and Rucker even hands out
premiums–free cassettes of his earlier hits. He’ll bring your
purchase to you, too, with a cheerful, "SureI’ll deliver
him to ya!"
Rucker puts 35,000 miles a year on his Ford Powerstroke, finding
the right horses for his program. "If it weren’t for divorces,
I’d sure be low on horses," he sings. With mostly grade
Quarter- and Paint-type crosses, his average horse sells in
figures comparable to the plain burger at McDonalds: $1,200 to
$1,600. If buyers choose to "super-size" their order with a
registered Quarter Horse or Paint, the prices rise
accordingly.
While reluctant to give the annual number of horses sold, Rucker
does confess he takes back approximately |
|
5 percent of his horses on warranty. And he
admits it’s
not common to
move more than a couple of horses a day. He’s not about to put
up a sign that says "100 billion sold." "Wouldn’t nobody
believe that anyways," he smiles.
No matter how thoroughly Rucker might believe he’s found a
dependable family horse, he puts all new purchases through the
same debugging drill. His goal is to ensure uniformity of
product, whether a horse comes from the bayous or the
badlands. He employs a full-time trainer assigned to find each
horse’s hot buttons and disconnect them.
Example: Every horse meets up with the tarp.
The spooky plastic thing is dragged all over the horse and
between his legs, then laid on the ground for him to learn to
walk over. "That way," Rucker explains, "the horse isn’t gonna
leave the country if a rider’s slicker falls off or blows in
the wind." And don’t kid yourself–the Ruckerized tarp-proof
horse makes a pretty impressive sales demonstration. Rucker’s
offerings also get arena schooling and trail work. But they
don’t head out on just any trail. His Usk location provides an
obstacle course of railroad tracks, chip trucks, and logging
mills. Horses that make it that far from his place must cross
creeks, even swim out into the Pend O’Reille River just 100
yards from Rucker’s home of 29 years.
Once a horse gets a passing grade on these tests, Rucker adds the
"special sauce"–a bath, a clip job, and his own brand of "aw
shucks" honesty. Then the horse goes on the menu–to provide
yet another customer with a satisfying experience, and change
back from his horse-buying dollar. |