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A Long Hard Ride

Richard R. Simmons

 FormatISBN Price  
This Book is Available Electronic Book (E-book Instructions)9781420832488 $ 4.95  
This Book is Available Paperback (6x9)9781420832471 $ 14.50  
About the Book

This is an inspirational story that shows how the author overcame poverty, the lack of education, low self-esteem and alcoholism. These stories come from the life experiences of a man fighting the demons within as he rode the racetracks of America in search of his soul. The book follows his life as he gives up his career as a jockey and joins the U.S. Air Force, eventually taking up a third career in management at the USPS. Hope and inspirations come from many unexpected places as the miracle of recovery and rediscovery of love - for himself and life - change him in ways he never thought possible. He knows that he was fortunate to survive “A Long Hard Ride!”

About the Author

Richard Simmons was born in Maryland, the fifth of six children. At age eight his father died, leaving his mother alone to support the family during the war. By age eleven he was struggling in school, dealing with low self-esteem, associating with bad company and turning to alcohol to “fit in”. Dropping out of school when he was thirteen he went to work at the race track eventually becoming a jockey and an alcoholic by the age of sixteen.

 

He joined the U.S. Air Force spending twenty-three years drinking heavily. Forced to face his demons, he became sober and went on to a successful career with the U.S. Postal Service. He is now retired and travels.

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I did not drink to excess when I was riding, first because I knew I would lose my license and get fired, but also because I really enjoyed riding and had respect for the horses and my fellow riders, that is not to say I did not celebrate my winnings, but I knew I needed to be clear headed enough to be able to exercise horses in the morning or to ride in a race in the afternoon, yet by the time I was sixteen my drinking was beyond my control, even though I did not know it at the time, or would not admit it. Although I did not get drunk as much, I still drank on a daily basis and believe now that by that age I was an alcoholic and becoming a chronic one. I had all but forgotten all the bad times I had at school, until one day shortly after winning my first race I was riding at Pimlico, it was the second race of the day, both Eddie Arcaro and Johnny Longden were riding in the race as well. I had ridden several races with Longden and knew him to talk to and had gone to breakfast with him on several occasions, however I had only exercised horses with Arcaro and had never ridden in a race with him; I was intimidated by him, I always gave him plenty of room on the track and stayed out of his way, he just seemed to be too far out of my league to even speak to him. After the race where I had finished in the back of the field that day, when we went back to the jockeys room I only had two more races that day in the forth and fifth, so I hit the showers and as I was in no hurry to change colors I just got a cup of coffee and walked around the room talking to some of the other jocks, Arcaro had won the race and was standing near me by my locker, I turned to him and said “nice race Eddie”, without saying a word, he looked at me with a look that I had seen so many times before, when I was in school and the other boys, especially the older and bigger ones, would look down at me like that, usually with a sneer and making fun of me. Arcaro never said a word to me, just “that look”. I was humiliated and walked away, Longden was across the room and saw what happened, as they were both riding in the next race they changed into their fresh silks and prepared for the race, after the race I was still in the jockeys room drinking a cup of coffee when Longden came over and sat down next to me, he said “don’t let Arcaro’s mannerism affect you” he said Eddie is just a very private person and is very selective in who he even talks to, he told me that although he knew that Arcaro never intentionally meant to hurt me, Johnny said he could he could tell that he did, he told me to just forget about it and stay out of his way, whither on the track or around the stables, I learned more about Arcaro later as many other people told me the same thing, he was not a mean or stuck up person, he just wanted people to respect his privacy, and I did from then on.

 

My oldest daughter had met an English fellow shortly after we arrived at Bentwaters. They courted all the time we were there, eventually becoming engaged. They decided to get married while we were at Lakenheath base about a year before we were to leave for the states. Joyce had made all the arrangements for a big wedding, being a friend of the NCO club manager and a bartender I hired the club for the reception, with full bar naturally. The wedding and reception were a great success, except for me. The morning of the wedding I was hung over and had to sneak out about 8:00 am to get a bottle to get well. When I came back, I decided to prepare our car for the wedding. I spent the morning washing and waxing it. The car was a very nice old 1954 English Rover, an English luxury car, affectionately referred to as the working man’s Rolls Royce. After polishing it, I hung a big sign over the grill that a girl who worked for me in my art shop had made. In great big red letters it read “JUST ABOUT MARRIED”. After finishing with car I went into the house to get ready for the wedding. Joyce asked me to control my drinking for the day; of course I promised I would. I continued to drink the pint of whiskey I got earlier that morning and was pretty much in control of myself for the wedding. At the reception however, I continued to drink, against Joyce’s wishes. The longer the reception lasted the worse I got. There were a lot of Joyce’s relatives and friends there; her mother, cousins, uncles and aunts. I continued to embarrass her throughout the day, especially when I attempted to dance with one of the bride’s maids and fell flat on my face in the middle of the dance floor on top of the poor girl. But Joyce managed to uphold her dignity and control the situation, until it was time for us to leave and I was attempting to drive her and some of the guest home. She flatly refused to let me drive, not that I could have anyway. One of her cousins took us back where we lived in base housing, when we got in the house she broke down, I just passed out.


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