When my father was in high school, he lived with relatives in Louisville so that he could go to high school. (One of his older friends road a horse six (hilly) miles each way every day for four years. Riding the street car two miles to a better high school was much easier.) In 1929 he went to the Derby with one of his uncles. It was a rainy day, like this one. His uncle had a winning ticket on the race just before the Derby, so he waited to cash it until afterwards. They were supposed to meet at his car. The crowds were such that my father couldn't get to the car, or find Tom, and he didn't have streetcar fare on him, so he walked home eight miles in the pouring rain. Ever since, most of my family have refused to try to go to the Derby. We listen on the radio, or watch television, in the comfort of our homes.