|After reading my earlier posts, you may be scratching your head wondering how the hell I could remember all those details from the early part of my life. |
I’ve heard my story told several times. And, while I don’t understand every word (as I explained previously), I have heard enough of the same words repeated over and over enough times that I can figure it out.
Plus, I have a ton of those flat images of me. I think they’re called photographs. They’re taken with something called a “camera.”
Cameras are the strangest contraptions in the world, aren’t they? It’s a big, black box on a three-legged stand. The box has a hole in the middle of it that they point at you while they hold a big broom-looking thing in the air. Then the person behind the box pulls their head out from under a blanket, makes a goofy face, and pushes a button. What happens next is a bit of a blur as I’m temporarily blinded by that broom-looking wand when it erupts in a flash of light. What the hell is that all about?
I began racing really early in life and Sam and my coach, Louis (I call him “Louie Louie” – it’s my one chance at revenge for him constantly calling me “Big Red”… the prick), knew I was something special immediately.
After all, I won my first race. And not by some small margin either. I won my next couple races, as well. I was quickly becoming a force to be reckoned with. In fact, there was only one race in my life that I didn’t win. And you wanna know why? My partner distracted me at the starting line. I was all kinds of discombobulated (what a great word!).
The starting gun fired… and I missed it.
Everyone was well ahead of me on this race. But you wanna know something? Even though I started late and they were all so far ahead of me, I still finished in second place. Yep, I came from behind and only finished about a few heads back on the leader.
How’s that for drama?
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