Here are some facts. You do not need a racehorse. Your racehorse will cost you money. You may grow to love your racehorse, but there is very little chance your racehorse will love you.
Your relationship will be very one-sided - you will pay the bills, your horse will eat a lot and work for less than an hour a day.
So we have established buying a yearling racehorse is crazy.
So why will so many people do just that this week. At Christchurch yesterday and today, and at Karaka on Thursday?
They may be suffering from a little known disorder that has crept into modern life. It is called motorway syndrome.
Try to pay attention. This could happen to you.
These days everybody seems to be busy all the time.
We would all love to do those fun, cool, feel-the-grass-between-your-toes kinds of things but alas, that is not reality.
Reality is that most people have to work. During the day, with other people.
That means crowds, queuing, tedium and occasional frustration.
That is life in the big city. If you don't like it you can always move to the Hokitika. But trust me, I don't recommend that.
And what keeps so many of us going is the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.
That wonderful Utopia where your mind wanders when you are stuck in situations you don't want to be in. Like being on the motorway in rush hour traffic. Motorway syndrome.
People have different cures for motorway syndrome - which incidentally can strike on trains, in buses or even just watching Shortland Street - but buying a racehorse is one of the most fun cures.
Because where there is a horse there is hope. There is an old American saying that not many people commit suicide with an unraced 2-year-old horse in the barn.
Buying a yearling is like Lotto with fun involved. If you own a horse there is not much chance you will make money out of it. But it will be fun.
And if you strike the next Christian Cullen or Courage Under Fire then your life will change a lot more than if you won Lotto.
Owning a champion racehorse opens doors that are closed to your average millionaire.
Think of the owners of Christian Cullen. One day unknowns, the next day rubbing shoulders with a bald All Black footballing genius and seeing themselves on the telly all the time.
And even if you don't get the champ, you will probably think you have.
Just as every new parent thinks their kid is the greatest, smartest, cutest kid ever born, new racehorse owners are renowned for their bias.
When your new trainer tells you how well your new horse has settled in, you will feel obliged to tell everybody you know.
It gets worse when the horse gets broken in, starts full work, gets to the trials. My God, it might even get to the races.
And with each horsy baby step your dreams will get wilder.
You can visualise Friday nights at The Park shouting your mates in the winners' circle after your first win. Then going out and spending the entire winning stake celebrating.
And maybe there will be trips away. Maybe to Addington, staying in a flash hotel, which even has a real concierge, so you can watch your pride and joy whip those horribly biased southerners.
And then it could be Aussie. Taking on the bookies. Wow, representing your country.
But hey, if you are going to be representing your country you had better do us proud.
So next time you are stuck on the motorway, start rehearsing your big-race acceptance speeches.