Vacationing in Kentucky, a friend and I spent the night at a small motel outside of Louisville. In the morning, I asked the woman at the desk for directions to Churchill Downs. Not able to tell us, she called her husband from the back room.

“Churchill Downs?” he asked. “That’s the race-track, isn’t it?”

We nodded. He hesitated and then said, “I’m pretty sure it’s somewhere south of the university. I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can be much help.”

At that point his wife left the room. The husband looked over his shoulder to make sure she had disappeared. Then he winked
at us, leaned over the counter and whispered, “Take Third Street through town, go past the university and turn right on Central Avenue. After that, just look for the twin spires.  You can’t miss ’em!”