It was one of those moments you cherish a lifetime (or at least until the next minor miracle comes your way).
Jumping up and down in disbelief, we watched as our seven-year-old's little "gold bomber" raced down the wooden track, taking all of its heats and going on to win first place in the Cub Scout Pinewood Derby.
While this would be a banner moment for any family it is particularly momentous for ours because of the fact that we own four major tools - a hammer, a Philips screwdriver, a pliers, and a plunger. What? A plunger is not a tool? Okay, three tools.
It had been weeks since my son and I purchased the little, blue Cub Scout Pinewood Derby kit which contained a six-inch block of wood, four plastic wheels and a quartet of nails - four long weeks of begging and pleading, "Pleeeze, Mom, can we make my car tonight? I promise I'll go to bed at 8 o'clock every night for the rest of my life."
Yeah, right.
The problem was... how to transform the pine block into a sleek, little race car - a major challenge for a seven-year-old "accident waiting to happen" and a tool-less female who never took a single shop class in her life.
When I mentioned the problem to my brother-in-law, he shared the saddest story I've ever heard.
Nearly 25 years earlier, as a young Cub Scout, he too participated in a Pinewood Derby. The story goes because he had no assistance with his car, he ended up attaching the wheels to the block, painting it red and racing his little, red block down the track amid the snickers of fellow Scouts.
After wiping the tears from my eyes, I vowed my son would not suffer a similar fate.
So we took our block to Sunshine Ace Hardware and the guys there helped remove the pieces we had marked with a pencil. The results looked very much like a race car.
My son was ecstatic.
We bought some primer and a can of gold spray paint and headed home.
After a quick and ineffective sanding job, my son had a ball spray painting the car. (He also painted two rocks, a plastic figurine, eight of his fingers, and an old pair of shoes. Gold paint is a lot of fun.)
His dad helped him put the wheels on the car and a Leggo man was cleverly glued into the driver's seat. I don't think my son could have been prouder of his shiny, gold racer.
That is, until the night of the weigh-in.
"My car's probably going to take last place," he sighed, eyeing the fancy, slick race cars made by Scouts whose families actually own tools.
"Fancy is not always fast," I replied, hoping to make him feel better about his "gold bomber."
As the saying goes, "don't judge a book by its cover." The next day, the bomber went on to win, despite the fact that my son dropped it on the sidewalk and a wheel fell off just minutes before the race began.
"So what's your secret?" other parents asked us.
"Well, I'm certainly no expert," I replied. "I guess... just don't take it too seriously."
Kind of like life, huh?
I remember my long-ago adventure with the little pine block. Spent many hours with an Xacto knife. Didn't win anything, and didn't do it ever again.
ReplyDeleteIt is a "pair of pliers", by the way, Kaydee. I know, because I have *two* pair, and as many as five tools in the house! This clearly makes me the know-all-about-tools person. [grinning]