This is I'm a Kittyhawk, granddaughter of Lions Raw (see the video in my previous post - it shows her as a foal and then as a three-year-old in her first-ever race). She is the great-granddaughter of the first racehorse we fully owned (Gato del Norte). And she was our highest-performing racehorse. See below for a video we showed at my book launch: you'll understand why we were so proud of her!
In case you haven't seen it, I've included my first-ever book trailer at the end of this post. I hope you like it! (Don't forget that books make great gifts!).
Here's a story I wrote for the December meeting of the Uxbridge Writers' Circle. The words I had to use are in italics. Happy reading.
Roundabout
Cheryl gritted her teeth as she sped into the roundabout. The tires squealed in protest as she wrenched on the steering wheel to point the nose of her dented Nissan into the circle. The driver in the car she had cut off flashed his lights and leaned on the horn. But Cheryl was used to the sights and sounds of road rage because she was so often the one to cause it to erupt. So far, she hadn’t come to any harm.
She yanked on the steering wheel again, this time to exit the roundabout but decelerated abruptly when she saw a police vehicle ahead. She’d paid more than her fair share of fines this month.
The driver behind hadn’t expected the sudden change and hit her Nissan.
The police car woke up, passed them, did a U-turn with lights flashing—unnecessarily Cheryl thought—and pulled up behind the two vehicles.
By now, the middle-aged man in smart jeans and a suave leather jacket was hissing like a serpent at Cheryl. She kept her window closed and did her best to look innocent and virtuous—which was a challenge. Although the police officer couldn’t find her at fault, he’d wanted to because her recent record of traffic offences put her licence at risk, and he considered her to be potentially dangerous.
Once the suave middle-aged man, called Tod, had stopped hissing at her, Cheryl told him and the officer that there wasn’t enough damage done to her already dented Nissan to worry about. She didn’t want to pursue it. She checked the front of Tod’s swanky car and all she could see was a scratch. She said he could easily fix it himself and told him what to get and where to get it.
The police officer drove off after giving Cheryl a verbal warning about her historical driving record and she said it was all in her past and she was a reformed, responsible driver. Tod knew differently but kept his mouth shut, buying him some brownie points with Cheryl.
She told Tod she thought the officer had been too bossy and had treated her like a kid which she most definitely wasn’t. Tod agreed with the former part of her comment but steered away from commenting on her age although Cheryl noticed his eyes twinkling.
She thought he was all right. He knew when to keep his mouth shut.
A bitter gust of wind reminded them both that they were standing on the gravel shoulder of the road at the beginning of December. Then a cloud of fine snowflakes surrounded them as if they were inside a snow globe that someone had jiggled violently.
Tod suggested they go to the coffee shop around the corner so that they could exchange contact information in case there were issues with their cars that needed follow-up. Cheryl thought she saw through him, but Tod just wanted to know why she’d been in such a desperate hurry. Even before she’d shaken the powdery snow off her jacket and ordered her latte, he’d asked her why she’d been driving so fast. She told him that it was none of his business and he said it was—because her appalling driving had caused him to hit the back of her car. She argued that she had to drive fast because she tended to be forgetful. If she didn’t get to her destination quickly, she wouldn’t remember where she was going.
Tod laughed so hard that several heads turned and other conversations in the coffee shop stopped—but only for a couple of seconds.
Cheryl was not one to share information with anyone about her lifestyle. So, she wasn’t about to give him insight into her life. She put her coffee cup down and asked him what job he had that meant he could afford a fancy new Lexus that now had a scratch on it. Tod told her he’d stolen it and had orders to deliver it by noon so it could be shipped overseas. Someone somewhere had ordered one.
Cheryl gazed at him for two seconds, saw his eyes twinkling, and now it was her turn to laugh out loud. No one in the coffee shop paid any attention this time.
Tod was curious about Cheryl, and Cheryl, despite herself, wanted to know more about Tod. Once she was back at home, she turned to Google, but nothing came up. Her curiosity grew to the point that Cheryl called Tod with a fabricated story about her car and Tod replied that his reputation as a car thief had been tarnished because the car was not in immaculate condition when he delivered it. He wouldn’t get any more assignments. Cheryl chuckled.
Tod agreed to meet again in the same coffee shop and Cheryl heaved a sigh of relief when she saw Tod step out of the same Lexus. He’d made the whole story up, of course he had. But she’d almost fallen for it.
She thought Tod seemed disappointed when she pointed out that his story didn’t add up and she didn’t believe him. He tried to keep it alive by saying they wouldn’t accept the car, so he had to keep it and didn’t get paid, but it was a weak story with too many holes to stand up. Cheryl felt sorry for him. It’s awful when your concocted tale doesn’t hold up to scrutiny. That’s happened to her several times. She felt soft and gooey inside which was weird. She didn’t know gooey. She was tough inside and out.
But when Tod asked her again why she was driving at such a crazy speed she relented and told him part of it. She loved speed. That was her passion. She was a jockey and rode thoroughbreds at Woodbine Racetrack.
Tod was about to laugh but realized she was telling the truth. He pointed out that racehorses didn’t race around roundabouts, and they didn’t go that fast. Cheryl said oh yes, they do—they can run up to seventy kilometres per hour—you’ve no idea what it’s like to gallop a horse in a race. It’s exhilarating, especially when you have a relationship with the horse. They’re amazing.
Tod acknowledged that Cheryl had to be reckless to have such a dangerous career. She said you have to be tough and mend quickly. She told Tod it was his turn to share.
Just as he was about to say something, two police officers approached them. After a brief, sharp exchange, Tod was told he must accompany them to police services. He’d made a deadly mistake arranging to meet Cheryl again at the same location and using his mobile. Why didn’t he use a burner phone? The police were getting more diligent about chasing car thieves and finding stolen vehicles.
He realized he’d be out of action for a long time.
Fortunately, the officers showed no interest in Cheryl. She finished her latte and wished Tod had been a dentist or something equally boring. She headed towards the racetrack.
What she hadn’t told Tod was that driving her car like a maniac had been her idiosyncratic way of testing her nerves and gauging her inner strength. Could she win races after the accident? Did she have enough courage? Would she still enjoy the speed and the danger?
She had three rides that afternoon and she won twice, which was amazing. So, she still had what it took to have her photo taken in the winner’s circle. No more crazy driving and no more incidents inciting road rage. She was back on track—literally.
But there was something about Tod. She might visit him in prison. She thought she might just do that.
Vicky Earle Copyright 2024
Video of a Special Horse in a Special Race!
This is one of the videos we showed at my book launch. It shows I'm a Kittyhawk running in a stakes race at Woodbine Racetrack. She was a long shot at 25:1. The result of this race made it to The National on CBC! And was covered by other media.
What always gives me a chuckle is how she keeps nudging me when we're in the winner's circle but stops to smile at the camera when the photo is taken! She resumes her antics immediately afterwards.
I hope you enjoy watching this wonderful horse run.
Book Trailer!
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Vicky
What a fun story!!!