This has been one of those days that can’t end soon enough, but I’m too wound up and generally pissed off at myself to even go to bed early. So I’m munching on a late-night bowl of Cocoa Krispies and pouring my heart out to you, the vast Internetsies.
Tonight I was over at my ex-wife’s house to help my son finish up his Pinewood Derby racer for Cub Scouts. He and I have built the last three cars together; this year he said he wanted his mom to help, which I thought was great. On Saturday there was a pack gathering at the township rec hall where a bunch of competent dads brought their woodworking tools to help out the incompetents like myself who (a) have no woodworking tools, (b) and have no ability to use woodworking tools, because such a combination would result in (c) loss of fingers, gouged flesh, and lots and lots of blood. Which is usually fine by me, except when it’s my own.
He wanted this really thin stealth thing (pictured above), which looks really cool but the problem is you have to carve off 3/4ths of the block of wood, which makes the car really light. Pinewood Derby cars have to weigh exactly five ounces — no more, no less. Which meant we had to add close to three ounces of weight to this slight beast to bring it up to racing weight.
Combine trying to find places to add the weight that didn’t completely ruin the look of the car or the integrity of what was left of the body, and I was left in an impossible position for a man of my (very limited) competence in building shit like this. My son started to cry at one point because we thought the car was ruined and we were going to have to reuse one of his older cars. “All I want is a car that looks cool,” he said. I felt like utter shit because I couldn’t help him make it right.
Add the insidious evil that is Gorilla Glue — which I think must be part of some terrorist plot to drive us batshit insane with its bizarre foaming action and uncanny ability to get on fucking everything, like my hands (I swear to God I didn’t touch the goddamn stuff!), my wedding ring, and my pants, not to mention all over parts of the car it shouldn’t be on — and my adventures with a Dremel, conjured forth in a desperate attempt to carve out a niche on the underside in which to place some of the weights, and you have the ingredients for an evening of epic fucking fail.
How did it all turn out? Some of the weights had to be glued to the top since the ones on the bottom simply didn’t add enough. What mattered was my son was happy with the final result even if I wasn’t. I felt like my lack of woodworking and mechanical skills really let him down tonight, and honestly I feel kind of shitty about that. It’s not a good feeling for me as a father.
So I’m just gonna sit here and sulk and mope the rest of the night because I can. I just hope he does well in the race on Saturday. Wish him luck!
