Procrastinators NEVER Win

The Pinewood Derby SUCKS! There, I said it. Actually, I can't say the derby sucks because we haven't participated in that part of it yet. It's the preparation that sucks, and bites, and blows. Have you ever made one of those cars? The $3.00 kit for kids looks like a piece of cake to put together. I guess maybe the kid, in another word, W., should have tried putting it together. He may have had better luck. Because his parents are idiots and can't assemble a stinking little wooden car with plastic wheels!

First off, Mr. Schmitty became obsessed a raving lunatic engrossed with this project. He scoured the internet for tips. He asked everyone and their mother for advice. All I kept hearing about was the car, the car, THE CAR! I told him to knock it off because he was sucking the fun right out of it. He relaxed a bit and after borrowing an electric saw of some sort he began the task of cutting out a shape from the block of wood. Don't ask me what kind of saw he used because I refused to even look at anything that Mr. Schmitty might use to sever a limb. The thought alone gave me the chills, I tell you. I waited in the house, van keys in one hand, and a tourniquet in the other. You know, just in case. But he cut it perfectly and completely avoided a trip to the hospital.

Next he had to do something with the wheels. I have no idea what it was, I just know it took a while. So, me being the artistic one of the family, tell W. to follow me to the kitchen so we can start the painting process. I figure he can at least do something. Why is it that with projects like this it always seems like the parents wind up doing the brunt of the work. Anyway, he paints a coat and says, "Can I go back and play?" "Yea, sure, why not?" I figure it will go quicker if I do the next coat. Then he tells me he wants me to paint flames on it. Sure, that should be easy. Ha! I thought it looked like crap, but he loved it. So great, that's done.

Now, the bottom of the car has two cut out grooves. This is where the axles are to be hammered in to hold the wheels in place. Tap, tap, one wheel on. Tap, tap, two wheels. Tap, tap, son of a......a piece of wood breaks off. You've got to be kidding me! So we get out the crazy glue. Mr. Schmitty replaces the piece. "Don't glue your fingers...." I begin to say. "Too late", and a few other choice words, as he rips a few layers of skin off his thumb. I don't think anyone should notice the bloody partial because of my exquisitely painted flames. He's darn lucky he didn't mess that up or he'd have to answer to me! Then it hits us, we begin to laugh because we simultaneously say, "So much for the weight restriction on the car." In our minds we are both picturing him glued to the Derby car, whizzing down the track. But it would never get that far, we can hear the referees saying to W., "We're sorry son, but your car is overweight by 155 lbs, we'll have to disqualify you."

So, can you guess? Car number 1....trashed. Kit number 2....purchased. Wish us luck, we only have 2 days to get it done.