dshans
They call me The Dribbler
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I know the feeling, Braxston, nearly 40 years down the road. I remember the day I left vividly. A woman from Lexington I'd met at the Kentucky Derby that year drove up to SB, helped me pack up and then head to Florida and my parents' house after a stop at her place.
She'd hoped that I would opt to stay in Lexington and complained that I was quiet, moody and broody on the drive. She didn't "get it." I even talked to some folks at UK about graduate programs. They had nothing that interested me.
She never did ship the trunk of my stuff we'd left at her house. It was clear by the time we hit Orlando that whatever relationship we'd had was a no-go.
The tennis racket, handball gloves and baseball glove I could replace, but I still miss the many books and ND gear in the trunk since they were a connection between me and ND.
All the best, Mr. Cave.
She'd hoped that I would opt to stay in Lexington and complained that I was quiet, moody and broody on the drive. She didn't "get it." I even talked to some folks at UK about graduate programs. They had nothing that interested me.
She never did ship the trunk of my stuff we'd left at her house. It was clear by the time we hit Orlando that whatever relationship we'd had was a no-go.
The tennis racket, handball gloves and baseball glove I could replace, but I still miss the many books and ND gear in the trunk since they were a connection between me and ND.
All the best, Mr. Cave.