My Grandad used to always tell us about his pinto pony ranch. it existed somewhere out there, where we might see it someday, if we were good kids. As a kid himself he came in an old model T with my great grandad and my great Uncle Ray, out of Colorado, across to Californa. He told me they saw herds of wild horses, and camped by their car, hoping not to get a flat, and going along on the tire irons if they did. They arrived in Los Angeles on Halloween, and, not knowing what day it was, thought all the inhabitants were nuts, as many were walking around dressed in odd costumes. He worked for the WPA one time, and had a big tale about that, riding down a wild hill with a crazy driver, he and Ray holding on for dear life in the truckbed  behind... and for banks too. (many stories about mobs, and diving for the floor in those tales) A great family story is about how he leant his best suit to a friend who was applying for a job (this was during the great depression) and his friend got the job, right then! The job was to dig ditches, so Grandad's suit was ruined. 

They were wild in those times, without television to entertain them! I could tell you more, and maybe I will sometime. My Grandad was full of stories, and I miss him.