Off to the Races

Back in the day I was many things to many people, but in the Cub Scout lore of Kirkland 4th Ward circa 1982-1985 I was simply known as "Champion."

You see, there's this little race that happens each year around January called the Pinewood Derby. I was a 2-time winner as a cubling, and even came in a close 2nd place my first year. Many still talk about it as a dynasty, but I don't like that term thrown around so loosely as it's embarassing to the many many many people I defeated. But hey, being a Pinewood Champion still helped me score chicks long into my high school years, so let the compliments flow.

The Derby is supposed to be a Hallmark moment between father and son, where they get together and build a car out of a block of pine, share an afternoon laughing and joking, and then spend the rest of the day fishing by the pond drinking homemade lemonade. You know, something Norman Rockwell would paint.

And maybe that's how it was, but we all know what it's become: a chance for the dads to show off their woodworking and tool skills. Sure, young Cub Scout does a little sanding, some painting, and slaps a bunch of gaudy stickers on it, but we all know that behind every fast car there's an obsessed dad running the show. And then behind said dad there's often crazy mom saying "Don't you let him down!" And then sort of next to crazy mom is her know-it-all friend: "You gotta do this and this and this" as if she was a 2-time Champion. Then some families have "Derby Connoisseur" friend who took state and wants to give you his car to use, or at least let you borrow his oak Derby Car case. Then the whole process just becomes some twisted Pinewood soap opera where people start coming back from the dead and test results get switched at the hospital. Not pretty.

So even going into Carson's first Derby the looming question was "Can he escape his old man's shadow?"

I mean, what does Michael Jordan say to his son when he tries out for the basketball team? How does Tiger Woods react when his son wants to go to the driving range one day? And hey...Michael Flatley, I heard your son wants to be Lord of the Dance when he grows up. Can you teach that???

It didn't help either that I had reminisced about my past dominance in front of Carson. Ohhhh, he heard that and you could literally see the gears turning in this mind. Let's all remember a couple things: Carson is competitive { a trait passed down from my ancestors } and also half Asian { a trait passed down from Lindsay }, so when I tried to backpedal and say things like "Well, we'll see what happens. Remember it's dad's first Pinewood Derby too" all Carson could say was "I'm nervous."

And well, it had been over 25 years since I was busy sanding by first car, so I can't blame him. Luckily, I did remember some tips.

1) GRAPHITE: Not really advice, as pretty much everyone knows this, but there are special ways in which to apply the graphite. One tip was to add a glob of graphite over the grills of each wheel and then put a rounded piece of duct tape over the top like a hub cap. It's supposed to hold the graphite in place - kind of like a Pimp My Ride for Pinewood Derby cars. I'll have to do that next year, but I'm going to add a 50" plasma screen in the back seat and install an X-box in the glove compartment.

2) CUT THE CAR INTO A WEDGE: I guess this is the most aerodynamic shape. I read on one website that a dad asks his sons each year: "Do you want to win, or do you want your car to look pretty?" Of course they say "WIN!" and he replies: "Then you cut the car into a wedge." Hey, that's a smart dad. A kind of scary dad...but smart.

Now, I attempted this alone for a couple reasons: a) I was using my miter saw and only had one pair of safety goggles, and b) anytime I'm using my miter saw and I actually wear my safety goggles then I'm about 50/50 on whether this is really going to work out the way I planned.

Little known fact { or maybe "known" fact, just not to me, though }: you shouldn't use a miter saw for a piece of wood that small because it could...OH CRAPBAGS! And now it's stuck in the saw blade and nearly split in half. Luckily the split was fairly clean and I just ripped off the top of it and started sanding like a madman. So, in the end it wasn't really a traditional "wedge" per se, but more like a fly ramp. All you skaters know what I'm talking about.

Oh, and believe me, had that ended up any worse I would've just hopped in the car, drove to Hobby Town and bought a pre-cut frame. Ok, then YOU explain that to Lindsay.

3) ADD EXTRA WEIGHT: To get the car as close as you can to the maximum 5 ounces, you have to find ways to weigh it down. Now, making something heavier than it needs to be has never been an issue for me, so naturally I used more than I should have. I ended up installing 3 lead rods in the back of the car to act as the "exhaust", and then a weighted plate on the bottom. { Yeah, go ahead and laugh it up all you Pinewood Derby experts. I know what you're thinking }. I had the same scale I used for figuring out my Weight Watchers portions, and it said the car was 5 ounces on the dot. I did not find out until the official weigh-in at the church that my car was in fact just over 7.5 ounces, which was not only surprising, but now explains a lot about my portion control.

So I briefly panic and then remember that the bottom plate was about 2.5 ounces. Simply unscrew that and we're in business, right? Ahhhhh yeah, weight it in Mr. Scout Leader. Annnnnd, now it's still a heavy 5.5 ounces. I can't take the metal rods out because they're glued in the back, so all he could say to me was, "Well, there's a drill and a hacksaw." Of course Lindsay starts giving me the Asian eyes of death combined with the biggest "I told you so" smirk on her face. And Carson keeps asking me if I "ruined his car." I knew it would work out though, and 25 solid hacksawing minutes later I made the 5 ounces.

Of course, this wouldn't be the first time I showed up to an event slightly overweight. I just hope that at my next class reunion someone doesn't hop on me with a carving knife and tries to cut a piece of bacon off my back.

So the races start and Lindsay somewhat likes me again - not enough for a kiss, but enough for her to sit by me. Carson wins his first race by a good margin and in my mind I'm like "How you like me now, Boo!?" but I don't dare say it to Lindsay for fear that she would literally take the drill to my kneecap. It was a good thing too, because Carson proceeded to lose the next 4 races, then won a couple, then lost 4 more, then won one - rinse and repeat. I was convinced that with all my frantic hacksawing that I probably screwed up the alignment on the wheels. It was either that or I just suck at making Pinewood Derby cars. Guess we'll never know.

You could tell by the look on his face after each loss that he was seriously doubting my skills as a craftsman. Ok, so I'm not going to be making toys in Santa's workshop anytime soon, but your cars runs and it gets you from Point A to Point B. Consequently, that will also be the excuse I use when he turns 16 and complains about driving the Taurus. Ohhhhh yes, that same Taurus I drive now, folks.

Nearly 3 hours and many many many races later, Carson ended up with 4-5 wins and an award for "Coolest Car." I'm assuming the judging was done before I laid the saw and drill to it, because now it looked like something you'd find on blocks in the front lawn of some trailer park.

He was pumped, and so was I. After all, I had never won "Coolest" car before. I was always too busy winning to realize that sometimes your car should be more social. "Winning is only for the moment, but a friend made lasts forever." { And yes, I'm quoting myself there }

Afterwards, we're all helping clean up and Carson is playing with his car, racing it down the track with some of his friends.

ME: "It's time to go Carson."
HIM: "Oh, but Dad, can we stay longer? NOW I'm having fun."

Norman Rockwell, get your paint brushes out.