The other day, my longtime personal and racing friend “Spotplay” and I were (again) lamenting the closing of Ak-Sar-Ben racetrack in Omaha, and talking about the “old days” of the mid-80’s when about this time of year, the Nebraska racing circuit moved to a 40-day meet at tiny State Fair Park in the capital city of Lincoln.

Lincoln had a 4 pm post time that gradually moved up to 1 pm as the days of fall grew shorter in their slow march toward winter. Spotplay and I and a couple of mutual friends carpooled to the races most weeks, driving the 40-mile trip (each way) each day happily engaging in handicapping talk and the way down, and the inevitable after-the-races back-analysis that emerged on the way home to Omaha.

There was always time to joke about the college students from NU spending the lingering afternoons of late summer at the track more for beer and potential dates than for really playing the races. There was always time to stop if we so desired at one of a select bunch of diners to grab a cheap dinner. There was always time to look at the magnificent autumn sunsets across the prairie, even with the knowledge that those rolls of alfalfa dotting an almost barren plain were signaling the cold that would temporarily end racing and keep us mainly indoors perhaps sooner than we could guess.

But now those days are gone. An abbreviated meet now held earlier in the year holds none of the charm that made the racing experience we remember fondly.

If no one else has said it directly, I’ll go first: racing is a wonderful avocation for many, but by itself it can be very lonely. Great racing combines the fascination of handicapping with a type of shared socializing that isn’t matched by most other recreations.

Soon after I moved to Omaha in the early 80’s and began developing computer programs for racing, one of the local TV stations asked me about what I was doing and aired a piece on the “newest thing to hit horseracing” which unfolded into a story about the old-timers who attended the races every day, met their friends there and argued over which horses could show, much less win. To them, it was better than bingo and much more exciting.

The story made several important points, not the least of which was that racing/handicapping is filled with warm, funny, intelligent human beings who do not fit the stereotyped image of a low-life, borderline-desperate bum (or bumette) who lacks moral character or any of the admirable attributes already mentioned.

In our lives today, which somehow always seem far busier than we’d like them to be compared to five or ten years ago, we need to take time to remember-to cherish-the racing memories most of us have, if for no other reason than not to forget them in the increasing numbers of ideas, images, and thoughts that are thrown at us every day from all sides.

It’s so simple to do. At the track, take your camera and take picture of a few everyday, typical visits with your friends as well as special occasions. Make time to email a “say, do you remember…?” story to a friend across town or across the country-and keep a printed copy for yourself. Start a scrapbook of sorts that contains nothing but racing “stuff” that means something to you. Maybe when you turn 90, you’ll need just a little help to remember it yourself, as you head out to the simulcast….

It may sound a bit corny in print, but believe me, you’ll be glad you did in years to come. It’s never too late to start.

Last year, Spotplay and I went to our local simulcast center, the magnificent Horsemens’ Park, on a Saturday evening and wound up staying till the last race on the East coast had been run, around midnight. We went to a Village Inn where we saw Joe the bartender and several of his cronies who invited us to sit down and join them. We spent the next two hours laughing and joking and sharing “racetrack stories” of all kinds.

So even though Ak-Sar-Ben is gone, the memories are still alive and can be revisited over and over—even late at night following an evening of watching races hundreds or thousand of miles away. I’m sure that many reading these words are thinking of similar experiences and smiling now, too. And I hope you’re one of them.

As I write this, the heat index is 105 degrees. Yet I know that we’re entering the time of year when sooner or later, time will slow down a bit as the seasons change. The end-of-year holidays will evoke thoughts of many good times, including those of racetrackers who do belong to a wonderfully unique club.

Enjoy them, and by all means, cherish the memories.