Origins Of The Species
Someone finally asked. It was my aunt Louise.
It was this way……..
When I was a kid growing up in a pre Disney Orlando, I lived in a small neighborhood called Colonial Town.
On the corner diagonally across from us lived Mr. Carpenter, the neighborhood handy man who was always available to help mend kids kites and broken toys. He just did stuff like that. We followed him like the Pied Piper.
In those day most of us ran around in shorts with no shoes or shirts. We were brown as berries and considered it normal. Mr. Carpenter used to pinch an inch of hide and tell us like liked our rubber shirts. No molestation or anything like that, he just thought it was funny. We just thought it hurt.
One day I had broken something of my fathers that I was not supposed to be playing with. I couldn't fix it so I took it to him. He couldn't fix it either. It was too far gone.
Facing the wrath of my old man because I had screwed up his stuff, I was determined that it had to be fixed and kept fussing with it in hopes that a miracle would happen. After too long a time Mr. Carpenter finally drawled " Kid you remind me of an old blind mule I used to have. You can't see it can't be done and you are too damned stubborn to quit".
When I started racing at an age that was way beyond optimum to make it a career but not too late for me to enjoy, it was the same thing. The name seemed right and Blind Mule Racing was born.
Twenty five years later when I decided to go racing again at the age of seventy plus it seemed more right than ever.