My Susquehanna Girl

Like many a fancy it began in a bar and involved a young lady. I’d been working my way back up the Susquehanna river after a brief sojourn in Chesapeake Bay; mesmerised watching the Watermen plying the bay, a relaxation uninterrupted by the Bass I’d been alleging to catch. Having drowned a few worms in the river I’d decided to fish a couple out of a tequila bottle at the local bar, somewhere in the vicinity of Darlington. I parked myself and ordered my first drinks. Noting the bartender wasn’t the chatty type, I sat my beer to the left and tequila to the right and decided to engage in another category of fishing. I was brought up knowing that the Lord had given me one mouth and two ears to be used in that proportion. I skolled the spirit, swigged the beer and let the sounds of my surroundings wash over me.

A couple of the locals had clearly been given a long head start in the drinking stakes and their not-quite-Southern drawl was getting louder as barroom deafness kicked in. I couldn’t have helped overhearing them even if I’d wanted. Their voices were growing more excited and I allowed my interest to sneak nearer, like a Carp following a berley trail. ‘I’m telling you she’s beautiful, leggy and hot to trot.’

‘Oh spare me. I’ve heard this story an hundred times and it don’t get any truer with retelling.’

‘I’m tellin’ ya. I’m following her down to Lexington. You can do as you please.’

A lengthy and increasingly loud discussion ensued but it appeared that the local stud had found ‘a real goer – the likes of which you just don’t see in Maryland anymore’ when I found my beer as empty as my shot glass. The bartender noticed this sad arrangement and asked if I wanted another round. I politely declined. I’d left my little black book back in my motel room and didn’t want to forget the name before I’d had a chance to transcribe it. I left a note from my dwindling supply on the bar and made my way back, my fortune in the offing.

Next morning I downed a coffee while I made a couple of calls to Vegas. Having established that my credit was as robust as my bank balance it was time to make a plan. There wasn’t much waiting for me at home other than a stack of bills and an inability to pay them. I saw my black book sitting on the table and I knew I was about to take a trip to Kentucky. I took a look into the recesses of my wallet. Enough money for fuel to get there although would arrive with little more than a sense of hope. I could take a detour via Charles Town, there was someone I could rely on for money there. Otherwise it was going to have to be inventiveness and charm; history suggesting more of the former than the latter.

It was only a hop, skip and a jump over the border to Charles Town. There one could find the premises of Lucky Laurie’s Pawn Emporium. Laurie’s real name was Harry and he was more renowned for his personal hygiene than his serendipity. I guess he had copyright issues. That notwithstanding he was generally speaking luckier than his customers. I put on my biggest smile and stepped through the door to push my luck. ‘Harry! Look what the cat dragged in!’

‘I would shoot any cat that dragged you in’ he deadpanned.

‘You really put the “C” in “Customer Service”, you know that Harry?’

‘Without patrons, who could I patronise?’ he shrugged. ‘Now what can I do for you?’

‘I have a deal for you.’

‘Let me guess, you offer me some crap and I give you gads of cash for it?’

‘Nobody likes a cynic Harry.’

‘So that’s where I’ve been going wrong all these years. Now seriously Dude, what do you want?’

I started rolling up my sleeve. ‘I have something in my possession to which you will be unable to say no.’

‘Cindy Crawford won’t fit up there’ Harry quipped.

‘I have something better’ I replied, taking off my watch. ‘A genuine Rolex’.

‘Have you ever been to New York?’ asked Harry quizzically.

‘Of course’ I replied, thrown slightly off stride as I presented him with my pride and joy.

‘There’s a small park there near the Statue of Liberty.’

‘Battery Park’ I interjected.

‘Yeah. I was walking through there when a very philanthropic gentleman offered me three of those things for $20’ Harry sneered. ‘And I’d give you a gunny sack of them for a couple of hours with Ms Crawford.’

This wasn’t really going as well as hoped but in the absence of a Plan B I ploughed on. ‘Take a proper look at it’ I implored, pressing it into his hand. ‘We’ve known each other for years. Would I lie to you?.

‘I have never known a man, woman or child that wouldn’t lie to me’ he replied, looking the watch over. ‘I am however nothing if not a generous spirit. You can have two hundred dollars for it.’

‘Generous my Ass. It’s worth ten times that’ I pleaded. ‘It’s an heirloom.’

‘Then take it to the “Ten Times That It’s an Heirloom” store down the road’ he said, offering it back. ‘Here it’s worth $200.’

I wanted to snatch it back but he had me over a barrel. Furthermore he knew he had me over a barrel. ‘Two C-Notes it is then’ I exhaled resignedly. The cash register chinged. He handed me the cash.

‘A pleasure doing business’ he said, slipping the watch onto his own wrist.

‘As always’ I scowled, storming for the door. ‘See you next Tuesday.’ Fuming I jumped into my car and slammed the door. Next stop Lexington.

There is much beautiful countryside in West Virginia and Kentucky but I was saw precious little of it through my red mist. It took the entire eight hour trip to settle down but I had managed to do so by the time I hit Lexington’s outskirts. A quick perusal of my wallet showed me that nothing had grown in there since the last time I looked. It was time to find a place with cheap coffee and free internet. Finding a diner that met these prerequisites I pulled up a stool at the counter, I ordered a beverage and asked for the Wifi password. The waitress gave me an apologetic look. ‘I’m sorry hun, the internet is down around here tonight.’

‘Outstanding’ I replied. The waitress looked a little shocked that my tone wasn’t sarcastic. ‘Can you make that coffee to go. And can you please point me to the nearest motel?’

Five minutes later a clearly perplexed motel receptionist was staring vacantly at a manual debit card processor. ‘You know, I’m sure the connection will be back up shortly.’

‘I don’t really have the time’ I lied to her. ‘I’ll show you how it’s done. Pass me the slider.’ The receptionist complied. ‘Now over there’ I pointed to the spot in the draw from which she’d extricated the processor ‘are the sheets we need. They look like little booklets.’

She grabbed a receipt book tentatively. ‘I’m not sure about this.’

‘Well I suppose you could call the manager.’

‘He’s finished for the evening’ she replied.

‘I’m sure he won’t mind coming in’ I said. The receptionist gave me the concerned look for which I’d been hoping.

‘OK, let’s just do this’ she said nervously. I took the processor, slid in the receipt form and my card.

‘Watch and learn’ I pronounced, sliding the processor across the carbon paper. I handed her the receipt form. ‘Now at the end of my stay you put a number in there, I sign here and you can ask for a promotion’ I smiled. She thanked me while somewhat apprehensively placing the receipt back in the draw from whence it came. I had every belief that’s where it would be found come doomsday. Didn’t matter though. Even if it was banked I’d be long gone by the time it was dishonoured.

‘Room 16, just around the corner’ she said, proffering a key. I took it, thanking her. Not much I could do now but flick on the TV, raid the minibar and reassess my situation in the morning.

The minibar hadn’t been plentiful so it was with a clear head that I met the morning. I returned to the diner of the previous evening and, unburdened of the cost of accommodation, treated myself to a danish to go with my coffee. I had a fully charged phone and a full cup of joe. It was time to find my maiden. I worked my phone. ‘My Susquehanna Girl, where are you?’ I whispered to myself as I sipped my coffee. It didn’t take long to strike paydirt. Thursday. Keeneland. Ungraded stakes race. In two days time I would be unleashing on an unraced horse with a no-name trainer on the say-so of a man to whom I’d never spoken. Wouldn’t have it any other way. The challenge for now was keeping myself out of mischief, and my capital in my pocket. The morning was spent on a shopping expedition. A loaf of bread, two pounds of ham and a bottle of Rye later it was time to bunker down in my room for a couple of days.

Thursday morning arrived and I slightly less clear headedly embraced it. With time to kill I decided to walk to the track, stopping to buy a newspaper along the way. My Susquehanna Girl : Race three. Morning line 100/1. No great surprise. No form, unknown trainer and a jockey of no import. I could barely contain myself as I entered the track. I timed my entrance to miss the first two races, rancorously using my phone rather than my watch, in order to avoid temptation. I committed to using my hock shop earnings. I split my wagers into ten bets of twenty dollars, the smaller amounts showing less effect on the tote board and the smaller individual winnings hopefully not attracting the interest of any lurking tax agents.

The wagers placed, there was nothing left to do but find a vantage point to watch the event. I could barely look but the semaphore told me what I’d longed to hear. My Susquehanna Girl jumped to the lead from the barrier break and steadily extended her margin. As she crossed the line five lengths ahead of her opponents I wanted to exult but restrained myself, still wary of the taxman. Around me were the solemn faces of those that had backed the more favoured runners, solemn bar one. Twenty feet away I recognised the face that had uttered the three magical words that had just changed my life for the better – My Susquehanna Girl. I’d loved to have thanked him but kept my story to myself having no desire to share my winnings. I settled for a curt hello. ‘Had a win?’ I asked him politely.

‘That I did’ he replied. ‘You?’

‘Had something small on the winner’ I responded. ‘Like anything in the next?’

‘The favourite looks a good thing’ he answered, walking away.

I looked in my form guide. Paint The Stars. Unbeaten. Leading trainer. Top rider. Even money. I looked up from the form guide and down at my winning tickets. A feeling of tranquillity came over me as I waltzed over to the totalisator window. I handed the tickets over to the operator. ‘Twenty thousand to win on Paint The Stars in the next please.’

‘Will that be Win, Place or Show?’ she asked.

‘For the win thank you’ I replied calmly. ‘All of it on the nose.’