Seven miles in a blizzard on the plains? He might as well have tried to walk to Mongolia.

Slaid Cleaves wrote on based on a chapter from the book Seabiscuit:

Quick as Dreams
(Slaid Cleaves)

My name is Tommy Luther, I'll soon be eighty-four,
I'll show you a little picture I keep here in this drawer,
Sixty years ago, boys, I road for the Diamond team,
Sailing by, eight feet high, on horses quick as dreams.

Well, I joined up with the races when they came through Alabam',
They had a good young rider, just a boy, named Sandy Graham,
We were two kids run away from home when the world was breaking down,
Didn't stay to see the family sell the farm and move to town.

From Detroit to Tijuana to Annapolis we rode.
They called us rookies "bug boys", we were just sixteen years old,
We were worth a couple of saddles and two big bags of grain,
The big men owne the horses and they owned us just the same.

Sixty years ago, boys, I rode for the diamond team,
Sailing by, eight feet high, on horses quick as dreams.

Well, it's Winnipeg and it's raining but the track's not looking bad,
They gave me Irish Princess, Sandy rode on Vesper Lad,
We were flying down the backstretch, my horse was running proud,
I pulled ahead of Sandy, when a roar came from the crowd.

I crouched as Irish Princess thundered across the line,
And then I stood and turned around to see that friend of mine,
Vesper Lad was standing still, there must have been a fall,
And in the mud lay Sandy, looking lifeless as a doll.

Well, a crowd ran up to Sandy, they scooped him off the track,
They took him to the office with shattered ribs and back,
At the hospital the next morning, I sat by Sandy's side,
But the season would be ending soon and then I'd have to ride.

Just a couple days past Danville, word came down the line,
Sandy'd lost the struggle; we hung our heads and cried.
It was poor old Mother Harris from the boarding house in town,
Who paid for the little casket and laid him in the ground.

I sent a couple of dollars, it was all that I could save,
She drew me a little picture of the lonely rider's grave.
I've kept it in my bedroom drawer all these sixty years,
I still see that crumpled body now but I'm to old for tears.

My name is Tommy Luther ...