Dylan Davis banked his mount into the turn, asking for more, he let the caged speed loose, feeling the acceleration down in his bones. There was sheer unadulterated horsepower underneath him, and once again, it was going to be another drive to the finish. The only roadblock was a final double. Wait, a double? As in two mounds of dirt, some 50-feet high? What were they doing in a Thoroughbred race on the flat?
