A Day at the Races

Their slogan is "Where the surf meets the turf---in Del Mar!" The month of August is racing month at the famous track. I remember visiting here as a teenager. My Uncle Jack and Aunt Margaret moved here from Chicago. He had been transferred by the USPS and ended up delivering mail in La Jolla. He was lucky not to have been restationed in Phoenix. We always wondered why Mom and Dad stopped in Phoenix (in August 1956) and didn't keep driving to the coast.

Each summer promised one or two weeks at the beach. My cousin Carol was a year older, so I buddied up with her. Everyday we'd grab our beach gear, head down the hill, cross Highway 1 and then billy-goat our way down the steep bluff to the shore. I tried to learn body surfing and more than once got pounded into the sand by a misjudged wave. A healthy fear of the ocean is still engrained in my psyche . . . pun intended.

Yesterday, Gene and I picked up my son Glen and his girlfriend, Julie, who is visiting him for the weekend. We headed to the race track with Glen humming the "surf meets the turf" tune. He's heard it over and over on the radio. Attendance is way down this year. A day earlier they'd had their lowest attendance in years.

It turned out to be a fun afternoon. Glen had never been to a horse race, and Julie had a perpetual "glad to be out of hellish Phoenix" grin on her face. Gene and I each bet $2 per race for 7 races. Total spent: $28. We had two small wins early and then picked the winners in the final two races. Total winnings: $33. Net gain: $5 and lots of laughs. Pretty cheap entertainment. Maybe next year we'll double our bets.

The RV is parked at Adm. Baker Recreation Area in Mission Valley. We'll be here until Sept. 7 and then move to Fiddler's Cove near Coronado for four nights. On Friday, September 12, we'll head to Phoenix. Hope it's a little cooler by then!