A decade ago, 2006 Kentucky Derby winner Barbaro shattered his hind leg at the starting bell at Preakness Stakes causing him complications leading to his death.
I often wondered why I cheer and mourn deep for race horses.
I remember often stealing my dad's 1965 Mustang and clock racing the gap in between towns. It was the unbridled expression of my adolescence, I guess.
I met old family in Chicago and history has it that my family tree harks back to stallion traders in North Luzon. No wonder, my aptitude seems equine. Ha! No wonder my youngest daughter still speaks of her fondness to own a horse, one day.
BMW enthusiast and mechanic, Jay C. took me for a spin in his souped-up M3 yesterday. His jockeying skill and machine sent me back to the race tracks!
While on top speed, I was merely hoping that the brakes had equal power to stop.
Funny, how horse sense kicks in while adrenaline is up.
I just remembered countless run-ins where failure to stop caused me some dying.
In my present trek, I choose fast just because the ONE who prompts me with urgency hits the breaks, grips the road without spill or break.
Pneumatology 101.
