Jodi spends a weekend with some real characters
What a weekend of characters I was chosen to spend with.
Let me give you a peek into my weekend world. Imagine this – you’re parked at a horse racing track with your food truck. The air is thick with the mingling scents of fresh-cut grass, sun-warmed leather, wet horse hair and the unmistakable tang of anticipation. It’s humid. That kind of humid that makes you sweat from orifices you didn’t even know you had!
The sign on my food truck reads “Trackside Treats,” for this event and I’ve got an assortment of mouth-watering options ready for all that attend the races.
First in line, we’ve got (names have been made up for obvious reasons) – Jimmy “The Jockey” Jenkins. At about five foot nothing and barely tipping the scales, Jimmy’s got an appetite that would rival a sumo wrestler’s. He orders a triple dose of yummy. Monkey Balls, a Monkey Slush and a Monkey Weiner to boot. As I hand him his feast, I marvel at where he puts it all. He flashes a grin and tells me it’s all about “balance in the saddle,” whatever that means.
Next up is Marge, a horse owner who’s seen more races than Secretariat has trophies. She’s a tough old bird, the kind of woman who could stare down a wild stallion and make it think twice. She orders a lemonade slush. “Gotta keep up with these young folks in this heat,” she cackles, her eyes twinkling a twinkle that told me she’s been a darling force her whole life.
A few minutes later, I’m greeted by the trainers, a boisterous bunch with stories for days. They order a mix of everything! One of them, Big Bob, recounts the time his horse bolted mid-race and ended up in the parking lot, grazing beside a Prius. Likely the only one in the county. His friends roar with laughter as they recall the chaos, and I can’t help but chuckle along.
Then there’s Lucy, a newbie owner with stars in her eyes. She’s just bought her first racehorse and is eager to fit in. She orders a Monkey Weiner. I hand her out a small bag of free balls -“For good luck,” I explain with a sheepish smile and a wink.
The real surprise of the day comes from Mr. Higgins, an aged, wise and kind horse owner known for his legendary thoroughbreds. He approaches the food truck with a twinkle in his eye and orders the family buckets -not for himself- but for his guests at the track. We chat about the races, his horses, and his many years in the sport. His stories are a goldmine of history and humor, and I’m enthralled.
Hours pass, the races run, and the crowd ebbs and flows. As the sun beats down and the humidity becomes too oppressive to carry on, we start packing up. That’s when I find it—a crisp $100 bill tucked into the tip jar, along with a note: “Thanks for the memories and the great food. – Mr. Higgins.”
I’m stunned. It’s the kind of gesture that blessed my whole soul to tears. Operating a food truck trackside has its perks, not the least of which is the colorful cast of characters I meet every day. From jockeys to owners to trainers, the track is a melting pot of personalities, each with their own quirks and stories. It’s a testament to the spirit of the sport and the community that surrounds it.
So, here’s to the horse racing track, where dreams are chased, legends are born, and, occasionally, a humble food truck operator like myself gets to be part of something extraordinary. Cheers to the owners, trainers, and jockeys who keep the tradition alive—and to Mr. Higgins, for reminding me that kindness and generosity are always in fashion.
Wow wee! What a weekend! Maybe you will be one of the characters at my food truck window trackside next weekend? If so no need to tip me. You’re the best tip I could receive!
The Blonde on the Prairie is a lover of ND. She is an author and motivational speaker, owner of “Monkey Balls” food truck and Joyologist to the elderly, the disabled and, now, also to children wherever she is needed during the school year and beyond.
