Dashed Hopes — Never Invest in Something That Eats

Don’t horse around with your money. Dave tells a true story about a time he and some friends tried to invest in a racehorse.

💈💈💈

 Years ago, I talked a number of skeptical friends into purchasing a racehorse. We spent $45,000 on the gorgeous Dash Lauxmont. He broke his leg the day we bought him. Seriously. We all know these are fragile animals. But, c’mon. The trainer delivered the bad news: “Dave, I don’t know how to tell you this, but Dash was stomping his foot and snapped his cannon bone.

It’s not good.” “Well, Brad,” I calmly began, “obviously, it’s horrible but we’re covered financially. As you advised, I insured Dash this morning.” “That’s not going to help. The policy won’t pay unless Dash is dead.” “Shoot him,” I logically suggested. “Isn’t that what’s done?” “Oh, no,” Brad replied. “We don’t do that anymore unless the horse is in permanent pain as it would be inhumane to let him suffer.

No, no, we’ll nurse Dash back to relative health, but he’ll probably never race again.” “Shoot me,” I then begged. I was devastated and embarrassed. I just picked up the investors’ cheques the day before. How could I now tell them I’d already lost their money? “Don’t give up yet,” Brad consoled me. “We’ll send Dash to some trainers I know who will work him out in a huge pool.

Swimming. That could do the trick. Same motion as running but no stress on the fracture.” Well, months went by without even an update. Had Dash drowned? Did they let him in the pool within 20 minutes of eating? I couldn’t take not knowing so I called the facility’s manager. “Oh, he’s a marvelous swimmer,” the upbeat lady comforted me.

“Yes, he’s beautiful to watch. Makes friends easily…” Dash was at an expensive summer camp having a fabulous time. But then, a miracle. Brad called with big news: “Dash is healed—he’ll be racing in weeks!” Was I pumped! When the night arrived, we were out in full force. Guys rented limos. Wore tuxes. Fancy cigars.

The evening was pure magic. Until Dash arrived. The handlers had trouble settling him into the starting gate. But not nearly as much trouble as our driver had getting him out of it. Perhaps Dash didn’t hear the gun. Water in his ears, I suspect. When your horse stops and waves, it’s not a good sign. Things didn’t get better with time.

Last, last, last, last. When he finally broke through and finished second last, we were accused of doping. One night Dash was so slow he actually got into the winner’s circle photo. Great keepsake. Much like the movie “Free Willy,” we dreamt of returning Dash to his natural habitat—the water. What to do? We convened a meeting where I suggested giving Dash to a local farmer.

One of the partners objected, “I don’t want to give him away; I want to race him.” “Go ahead, you’ll probably beat him,” was another’s response.