ECONOMY DRIVESOn my way to the Rosehill races I stopped off near Parramatta to have a coffee and thought I knew the bloke sitting at the next table. I walked up to him and we recognized each other as old pals from years back. In another life, you might say.Was he too going to the track? Yes he was. So we had our drinks, then I gave him a lift to James Ruse Drive, where he got out and we agreed to meet up later on.He had promised to find me another pal from the old days and we could have a chin w

ECONOMY DRIVES

On my way to the Rosehill races I stopped off near Parramatta to have a coffee and thought I knew the bloke sitting at the next table. I walked up to him and we recognized each other as old pals from years back. In another life, you might say.

Was he too going to the track? Yes he was. So we had our drinks, then I gave him a lift to James Ruse Drive, where he got out and we agreed to meet up later on.

He had promised to find me another pal from the old days and we could have a chin wag. At around 3 o'clock, just after the ordeal of the two miler, we met up and watched the Ipswich Cup. Then we found a chair and I was delighted to see another mate from the past turn up. We'd been thick as thieves at one stage then lost touch when I spent those years overseas. But we were all racing types, through and through.

Joe (let's call them Joe and Bill, not their real names) had been a teacher and Bill worked for the mines. Both were retired or close to it. Of course the talk turned to horses.

Joe has followed PPM since the second issue. He hadn't connected me, even with that flattering photo. Bill was his own man and followed nobody. Joe had specialised in trifectas for many years, with saver quinellas and occasionally exactas when he thought they were value, or likely to be. Just a few in a day.

Bill was the original "on the nose" man. "If it can't win, I don't want it", I can remember him saying way back, and nothing had changed.

Two a day, he backed, on the nose. Always favourites.

"Let the bookies and the public do all the work. I just assess their findings, and if I really, really agree, and the price is OK, I go with them. But never against them."

Both men had economised their betting. I recalled their strong willpowers: we'd had many a tussle where we all wanted to do different things and we rarely ever compromised. We just all did our thing. It was a friendship that suited us and for years we were close pals.

It was a good meeting, and we all parted with the usual promises about Christmas meet-ups and the like. Yet I think we all knew it was a one-off, and that it had nevertheless been a nice time for us all.

Driving home I found myself wondering what had ever gone wrong. Why did we split?

Then I remembered in a blinding flash.

Bill had asked for a loan.

He'd asked Joe, then he'd asked me. Embarrassed (as we had later admitted to each other), we'd both lent him money.

Then I found out that for Joe it was the fourth or fifth time, and the "loan" was in fact a "gift".

I'd been bitten for two lots, promised it would all come back soon. and I'd thought I was the only one being asked.

On the racetrack, that's a lethal blow to a friendship. I found myself inadvertently nodding my head as I drove the car, and thinking of all the friendships that must have been put at risk in this manner.

The solution is so easy. It's such an old piece of advice that I won't insult you by preaching it here.

But it had ruined our relationship. Fractured the whole trio.

Bill had obviously recovered his willpower, but you know nothing can ever be the same.

If you haven't got it..... No, I said we don't need to say it and let's not. But I found myself feeling so sad that what is one of life's greatest pleasures can be such a dangerous enemy, if you let it.