All wet at the Spa

SARATOGA SPRINGS -- When people hear I'm going to Saratoga to cover racing, they think I'm one of the luckiest people in America. "You get paid to do that?" Yes, it's a pleasant assignment, but like anything else, it becomes a drill, and the life of a journalist on the road is hardly glamorous. I love the destination but the long drive from Long Island is boring, and travel can be most aggravating at times.

Such as what happened to me Saturday evening, after a downpour complete with sky-splitting lightning (horizontal, vertical and diagonal) delayed my exit from the press box for an hour. I had parked near the training track, perhaps a quarter-mile from the grandstand, and former Newsday colleague John Pricci gave me a ride.

When I saw my car sitting in about 4 inches of freshly fallen water, I became concerned. Were the brakes wet? Was the engine damaged? I took off my shoes and socks, put them on the hood of John's car, and rolled my pants up above my knees. Something was floating near the door on the driver's side, and I'd bet it had been alive an hour before. I couldn't guess its species, but it might have been the rare land jellyfish thought to have been extinct for centuries in the foothills of the Adirondacks.

So I looked like Jed Clampett as I got into the car, which thankfully started. Then I drove to meet a fellow writer at a barbecue place, answering a call from my son on Long Island on the way. So I was driving barefoot and talking on a cell phone (two crimes) as I drove past the barbecue joint, which was dark and closed because of a power outage. When my pal Bob showed up, he saw me standing outside my car, my feet still bare and my pants still rolled up above my knees. He said he expected to hear the banjo from the movie "Deliverance" at any moment.