The first and last time!

One day one of my friends at the Consulate invited me to go with him to watch horse racing. What an experience! First of all, we drove 60 or 70 miles an hour to get there. At one point the police stopped us. Then, on the way home, we had a flat tyre. I finally arrived home around two o’clock in the morning. This happened in July or August 1964. I never went again. Once was more than enough!