I'm not a betting woman, but my money, and my heart, is on Pants On Fire in the Kentucky Derby.
Number one; that's a great name for any horse. And the phrase Pants On Fire makes me laugh, and makes me think of a favorite song.
Number two; a young woman who--by her own description, kept her mouth shut and pushed back to earn a place in the high-risk, sometimes brutal world of horse-racing--will be aboard that animal.
And none of this has a thing to do with bikes--except for this. My first bike, a blue girls's Schwinn that probably came from Marcello's Sporting Goods in Boonton, NJ, was simply a substitute for what I really wanted; a pony.
I was one of those horse-crazy girls who badgered my parents for a pony. Then, seeing I was getting nowhere, downsized that dream to riding lessons. Never happened. (I'm not bitter, really Mom.) Instead, one Christmas morning, I got that blue Schwinn.
I'm not gonna lie. It was a disappointment. But it didn't kill my dream, it simply meant I developed some odd habits when I rode my bike. Like posting, as a rider does at a trot. Like keeping my heels down on the pedals. Stuff I learned from watching my best friend Molly when I tagged along for her riding lessons at a barn that to me, smelled like heaven.
I would eventually learn to ride--not well--as an adult. And that was the result of a gentle push from someone to whom I owe a great debt. But I digress.
And mothers, watch out. Your girls have a brand-new heroine.
The photo here is of yours truly with a cute blonde named Nugget. One of the tolerant horses that--with the help of a truly great instructor--taught me to ride.