The third race. Yes it was the third race. I bet two on number 2 and three on number 11. Garcia rode number 2. I never use the form -- I bet on good riders. Last year I bet Stevens and came out even for the meet. In the stretch I saw my number 2 at odds of 13/1 come into the picture. The one I thought would win the race-at least It looked like the number one. Yet there was the number 2 catching the leader and at the finish, it looked like a dead heat.
"Who won, the 2 or the 11?" I screamed to a few kids who sat in back of me in Club House seats. Later I found out they were celebrating a birthday for one. My diamond card allowed me to purchase a club house ticket for five dollars.
"We think the number 2 just got up in time." I saw a rerun on large infield screen. I thought number 2 go it by a nose. Sure enough, the totalizator board flashed 2 above the 11? Apparently one of the number ones had been hidden. Both of my long shots finished one and two.
At 13 to one, my return was a shade over $28. Erased were my sins for the day including two Sub sandwiches. Earlier after I had parked my car in the commuter lot, I had purchased two veggie sandwiches at a block shopping center before my my bus ride to the track. I noticed a Peat's Coffee on the corner. I filled my thermos with water and walked across the street to climb on a free shuttle-bus.
The double-decked British bus ride is part of my Del Mar experience. Inside the eleven o'clock bus were a two older couples. Like always, I ease-dropped onto their conversations. A lady older than Father Time spoke to another couple, long past their prime too.
"My sister's hip replacement turned out great. It was a booming success. The only time she has a problems is when she goes to the airport." Just then a man with too much personality threw in his two bits
"My tip for the day is number 10 in the seventh race. It is a sure thing. I bet my life on this nag. But if it loses, don't look for me..." The crusty grey haired old man chirped in another winner. "I used to be friends with Bert Bacharach a long time ago. He told me the only reason he divorced Angie Dickinson was because he wished to be number 1."
Earlier I had watched from the Paddock Tavern. It had a good view of the trainers giving instructions to the riders. The ladies wore colorful outfits and walked like allowance horses. They posed as they walked until the riders up was sounded.
Most of the club house admissions were young, and with legs to match. High healed shoes and easy smiles were a grim reminder that I was an old fossil. Yet the track made me feel young once again. My biggest problem was water.
Parked next to the hot doggy and beer stand was a fountain-at least it looked like one. The gal ahead of me tried to fill her cup. It took several minutes Only drops flowed out, one drip at a time. I almost bought a small soda for four dollars but thought better of it.
I could not get onto the shuttle bus. Two officers were dragging an unwilling better off the bus. The better's pants slid down so one of the policeman needed to shore up his battery. The bus returned me to the commuter parking lot. From there I took the #5 Freeway to the Old Town lot and allowed the Green Line Trolley to take me the rest of the way.
Nuts and Bolts from San Diego: Forget about parking. Take any one of four trains to the Solana Beach station. Two Coaster tickets are accepted on two Amtrak trains. From there, elevator will take you to a bridge. Go across to the double-decker buses. Get a free Diamond Pass and you can save on admittance.
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