Nobody warned me about this. Oh sure, the folks in charge of mule rides at Grand Canyon National Park gave me that spiel about safety and risks, like getting bucked off, or struck by lightning, or kicked in the head, or thrown into the abyss. Injury and death? I deal with that every day. But this? The mule in front of me, an evil critter named Algebra, just farted. Again. And I have nowhere to go. Turn left, and I’ll be slapped in the face by piñon branches. Right, and I’ll drop over th
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