Daniel and I built his car a few months back. Now, truthfully, I am neither mechanically nor artistically talented. I was happy that it ran, in test trials down our kitchen floor, more-or-less straight. And I was happy that 8-year-old-Daniel was quite pleased with how it turned out, and that he had taken part in the design, and that he was proud of his effort. We even went to the hobby store to get a stick-on weight, which he summarily attached to the top of the car instead of using 2 of them on the sides, since we would have been over the weight limit. It looked dorky, but he was proud of it, and it ran straight, so we were both happy.

So we got to the event, and wouldn’t you know it, we won the first heat of the 3-heat sudden-death tournament. And I was ecstatic! I mean, jumping up-and-down, I-can’t-beleive-we’re-not-last, genuinely excited. I thought, “Hey, it’s not a washout! He can go home happy! We’ve succeeded in creating a vehicle that is at least passable”.

Then came the second heat. Truly, I cared not at all. I was already happy, Daniel was happy, it was a Good Day. And then, of course, the unthinkable happened: We Won Again!!! Now, I was in shock. It never occurred to me that we could actually win this thing, much less compete even respectably, and here we were in the finals! So Daniel was excited, but I don’t think he realized the incredible unlikelihood that his mechanically disinclined father could help craft a car that could even roll remotely straight, never mind make it to the finals.

So now, secretly, I was hoping - and believing - that we would lose this last heat. After all, if we win, on our first try, what would we do next year? It’s only down hill from here, so to speak.

2 cars on the track. Ours, and The Other Guy. The Other Guy’s car was sleek and cool looking, like it was moving even before it started. Ours had exactly one cut, and an uneven one at that, front to back, in the wood, ’cause that’s all Dad could manage with the %&(@??-ing hacksaw. And let’s not forget the non-aerodynamically situated weight on the top of the car. “we’re done for”, I thought. And then the gate came down.

The cars are moving, and ours is ahead. AHEAD! I thought - again - hey, we can always say we were ahead, and take some solace in that. But then we stayed ahead, all the way to the finish line!!! WE HAD WON!!!

I was redeemed. All of those crappy loser cars I made in elementary school had taught me how NOT to build a car, after all. Daniel’s prize was a bigger-than-life Cub Scout Wolf Patch, unusable for anything except to hang on the wall. “We don’t give out trophies”, the pack leader explained “Since that doesn’t send a message that We’re All Winners”. Daniel didn’t seem to mind too much - he was happy, even as I explained, on the way home, that we’d have to build a new car next year and would likely not be as lucky. “Dad”, he said, “Couldn’t we just use this car again?”. Well, now there’s a thought….