SUMMER... and a whole new life (Part 33i)

Pat never said a word on the rest of the way to the track. I can’t say she was ready to cry or anything like that but she was clearly upset. I told her to look me up in the paddock later on and she nodded and she took her cameras out of the car. Long story short... she didn’t, and that upset me. I’d seen her but she never came my way. One of the horses I took care of was racing that night and by the time I had him put away it was way late. I drove up to the grandstand where her office was located and found the door locked. I wasn’t about to go to her rooming house at that hour so made a vow to track her down the next afternoon.

It was after 2pm when I finally got free. On a hunch, I stopped at the garage and found out that she’d decided to put in a used motor. Personally, I thought that was a mistake because there was no guarantee on it. From there I headed for her room. No luck there either. I was puzzled but didn’t know what to do. It was a Friday night and we (AJ’s stable) had multiple horses racing that night. That meant I’d be especially busy and, again, was unable to connect with Pat. Now I was really upset.

Saturday night was to be Pat’s last night as track photographer with her father returning on Monday night (Labor day). I, again, missed Pat in the paddock but, was able to get the OK from my boss, AJ, to make a quick trip over to the grandstands. Before the first race she would always go to the winners circle to make sure all the “props” were in place for her pictures. I was sure I could catch her there and I was right. She was clearly embarrassed and made all the typical excuses for not catching up with me. When I had to get back to the paddock I still didn’t know why she’d chosen to avoid me but did elicit a promise that I could drive her to her room when she finished up that night.

The owners of one of the horse AJ was racing that night were visiting and I had to escort them down to the stables after the races so they could visit with their horse. I was praying that they wouldn’t “dilly dally” and I could be waiting for Pat when she was done. They say that timing is everything in life and as I drove up, she walked across the parking lot.

The one thing I didn’t want was some sort of tearful good bye. Another thing I didn’t want was for her to come on to me again. I’d stayed away from her office after the races all that time for just that reason. But what I did want was to find out what was going on... about the car... when she was leaving and how I could reach her during the Winter.

It went fairly well, at least as far as the first two things were concerned. The car would be done on Tuesday and, although she’d be rushed, would make it back for the opening of classes. That meant she’d be around for a few more days. I don’t know why but I was sort of glad.

There was a local tavern that was owned by a former trainer/driver where most of the people affiliated with the track patronized. He’d started a tradition a few years prior in hosting a “picnic” for the horsemen at his farm on the Sunday before Labor day. There was a “donation” expected that was used to help out horsemen that had gotten hurt while racing. Pat had not expected to be able to attend and I had not felt that I was considered a full fledged “horseman” yet so had no plans to attend. But now that Pat was going to be available she decided to ask me to go with her because it would benefit a good cause. She had to plead and I was unable to resist. She was clearly happy when I finally gave in.

The “picnic” started at noon. We didn’t arrive until early afternoon because of my “chores”. It was clearly obvious that some of the attendees had consumed a fair amount of alcohol. I’d not had but a few beers all Summer and when one was thrust into my hand I didn’t refuse it. It wasn’t long before Pat and I’d consumed at least three... and without any food. I knew I felt it. Pat had noticed a small pond down a hill and suggested that we get something to eat and walk down there. Walk is probably the wrong word. Neither of us fell but our path was anything but straight. There were three sickly looking trees that offered a modicum of shade and we settled there. Of course, we also brought another beer to go with the sandwiches we’d taken with us.

I really have no memory of what we talked about (that’s what 3+ beers do). But I do remember seeing this very small double ended boat at the edge of the pond. The pond itself was maybe 1000 feet by 600 feet in the shape of an egg. I asked Pat if she wanted to go for a ride and, feeling little pain, she said yes. She was wearing the same dress that she’d worn that day we’d gone to the lake earlier in the Summer. Getting her into this thing was worthy of a YouTube video but somehow she made it to the back seat without falling into the water. When I said the boat was small I wasn’t kidding. Even though there were two seats, one on each end, there was hardly enough room for us to put our legs and feet. Because I was over six feet tall I needed to put my legs and feet straight out and between her legs. To do that she had to spread them and ended up with her feet on the bottom of the boat and her knees almost as high up as her breasts. You know what that gave me... I couldn’t have scripted it better. The only negative was that I was fairly drunk and really don’t remember much of it. In any case, the only thing we had to move the boat with was a dead branch from one of the trees. Every time I tried to push off with it the boat rocked and Pat would let out a little squeal... very reminiscent of Joanne and our sailing "adventure". We got about 50 feet from shore and were actually moving right along when we came to a sudden stop. Pat, who was holding on to the sides, “flipped” up and almost out of the boat. Why she didn’t end up in the water I don’t know but her left leg was resting on the side of the boat and the hem of her dress was up in her lap. An even better view! We’d hit a rock that was just beneath the surface. I wanted to go on but Pat wanted land, and fast.

To be continued...