Teach
01-03-2008, 10:11 AM
As a boy, I loved amusement parks. I particularly liked the carousel with its wooden horses, calliope music and brass ring.
In the mid 1980s, when I worked as a publicist/backup announcer at MA’s Foxboro Raceway, I had many wonderful experiences; yet, one in particular, stand outs --- a ride in the starter’s car.
My "carousel ride" would start taking shape in the spring of ‘84. One week before "my ride," I had cleared my presence in the starter’s car with the presiding judge. I also received the OK from the starter and his driver. I remember "my carousel ride" was to take place on a Sunday matinee.
I recall getting into the car on the backstretch. I then sat down in the car’s passenger seat next to the driver. The starter was perched in an elevated position, facing the drivers.
I remember the driver moving the starter’s car into position in front of the grandstand.. I recall the starter saying: "Bring’em up, gentlemen." Moments later, the car was in motion. I remember that we started off very slowly, like a freight train leaving the station. As we made the turn into the backstretch, we began picking up speed. By the time we were about to pull back the car’s wings, we were really motoring.
Just before we sped away, I looked back at the horses. They were now just noses away from the car’s wings. Their appearance is still etched in my mind. Their nostrils were flared. Their faces were taut. They seemed fixated. Yes, they were animals; but they exhibited the same characteristics as humans. The drive. The intensity. The urgency. In fact, the start of the race reminded me of muscled sprinters tensely awaiting the sound of the starter’s gun.
At that moment, I was glad that the car’s frame and wings separated me from the horses. In that moment of anticipation, the eight horses reminded me of a stampede. As a history teacher, I could now get the feeling for what it must have been like for an infantry company, say during the Civil War, when they descended upon by a charging cavalry regiment. I can easily see why some men might have broken ranks and fled. Terrifying.
Just then, we picked up speed and pulled back our wings, and sped away from the onrushing horses. The starter’s car then skimmed the outside of the track as we watched the horses and drivers pace out the mile. It was like watching a "live" merry-go-round. Even the horses rhythmic gait reminded me of the merry-go-round’s up-and-down motion. In about two minutes, it was all over.
In hindsight, "my carousel ride" went by very quickly. It seemed to last just about as long as the merry-go-round rides my parents would take me on. By now, the starter’s car had come to a complete stop. Time to dismount...I mean get out of the car. "Thanks very much" I said, " I enjoyed it." Only, in this case, there was no brass ring. Yet, come to think of it , when I look back — there was. It was the thrill of watching eight well-conditioned standardbreds close up as they were preparing to rush headlong down the track. It’s a perspective few harness racing fans ever get to see. It’s one I’ll never forget.
Yes, that spring day, I had turned the clock back. I had -- ever so briefly -- relived my childhood. Only this time, instead of wooden horses, I was treated to a real-life "carousel ride."
In the mid 1980s, when I worked as a publicist/backup announcer at MA’s Foxboro Raceway, I had many wonderful experiences; yet, one in particular, stand outs --- a ride in the starter’s car.
My "carousel ride" would start taking shape in the spring of ‘84. One week before "my ride," I had cleared my presence in the starter’s car with the presiding judge. I also received the OK from the starter and his driver. I remember "my carousel ride" was to take place on a Sunday matinee.
I recall getting into the car on the backstretch. I then sat down in the car’s passenger seat next to the driver. The starter was perched in an elevated position, facing the drivers.
I remember the driver moving the starter’s car into position in front of the grandstand.. I recall the starter saying: "Bring’em up, gentlemen." Moments later, the car was in motion. I remember that we started off very slowly, like a freight train leaving the station. As we made the turn into the backstretch, we began picking up speed. By the time we were about to pull back the car’s wings, we were really motoring.
Just before we sped away, I looked back at the horses. They were now just noses away from the car’s wings. Their appearance is still etched in my mind. Their nostrils were flared. Their faces were taut. They seemed fixated. Yes, they were animals; but they exhibited the same characteristics as humans. The drive. The intensity. The urgency. In fact, the start of the race reminded me of muscled sprinters tensely awaiting the sound of the starter’s gun.
At that moment, I was glad that the car’s frame and wings separated me from the horses. In that moment of anticipation, the eight horses reminded me of a stampede. As a history teacher, I could now get the feeling for what it must have been like for an infantry company, say during the Civil War, when they descended upon by a charging cavalry regiment. I can easily see why some men might have broken ranks and fled. Terrifying.
Just then, we picked up speed and pulled back our wings, and sped away from the onrushing horses. The starter’s car then skimmed the outside of the track as we watched the horses and drivers pace out the mile. It was like watching a "live" merry-go-round. Even the horses rhythmic gait reminded me of the merry-go-round’s up-and-down motion. In about two minutes, it was all over.
In hindsight, "my carousel ride" went by very quickly. It seemed to last just about as long as the merry-go-round rides my parents would take me on. By now, the starter’s car had come to a complete stop. Time to dismount...I mean get out of the car. "Thanks very much" I said, " I enjoyed it." Only, in this case, there was no brass ring. Yet, come to think of it , when I look back — there was. It was the thrill of watching eight well-conditioned standardbreds close up as they were preparing to rush headlong down the track. It’s a perspective few harness racing fans ever get to see. It’s one I’ll never forget.
Yes, that spring day, I had turned the clock back. I had -- ever so briefly -- relived my childhood. Only this time, instead of wooden horses, I was treated to a real-life "carousel ride."