There is a small hippodrome, or horse race track, on the outskirts of our little city, Chatelaillon. We decided to go have a look the other day. I’ve been to horse races before. In fact, little known fact, my Dad had part ownership in a race horse once. Unfortunately, it wasn’t Sea Biscuit. I remember going to a few races when I was a little girl. I have no idea why my Dad did this. He had seven brothers and I am thinking it is something they did together. They owned a “race car” too, a hot rod. I don’t think either project lasted very long. Anyway, it was fun to find myself at another race track.
A close up look at the track. Notice that the rider is on a little two wheeled cart, a sulky, behind the horse, not on it, very European. The run is called a trotter. The horses can’t gallop just sort of do a very fast walk. There wasn’t a starting gate either.
That’s some hat on the man. I could swear they played a tune like one I danced to as a girl, Put Your Little Foot. It was a fun day but we didn’t stay for all of the races after losing that two euros.