Some 20 years ago, my sons were scouts and participating in the Pinewood
Derby. I had a meager shop and agreed to host several scouts there to have
them work on their car kits. Dads were invited, too. I had enough files,
rasps, coping saws sandpaper and paint to share around.
Actually, my shop was in the basement of my ex-wife's house. I lived in a
one room rental and was waiting to some day relocate it all. Anyway, I
wanted to stay connected to my kids and also encourage them to stay with
scouting. Despite some short comings, scout IS SO very worthwile for kids.
But I digress....
So I had a handful of boys in the shop and a few parents. I had one boy
though that wanted none of it. He looked like one of the kids you would
always pick LAST if you were choosing sides to play ball and, at first, I
thought he just felt like an outsider. I came to learn he was there with
his Dad, who had just stopped living with his family. This kid was angry!
His world had really changed. Despite the father's best efforts to involve
his son, these two just couln't work together. The kid wanted out. I could
see this man trying his best to re-connect with his son and just not being
able. I knew his pain. I don't think he was all that handy either, which
only added to his frustration.
Well, it hadn't been too long since I had gone through a similar time with
my own sons. I spent time talking to this kid and had my boys talk with him
as well. In the end, the boy agreed to work with his dad and together they
made a car from the kit.
At the end of the day, the father thanked me (a lot) for some how getting he
and his son to a place where they could work together. They seemed to be
closer. They left with their car and, I think, did some more work together
elsewhere.
Well, the night of the race came. My son placed around the middle of the
pack, despite my best "mechanical engineer's" advice. I tried to be as
"hands-off" as reasonable so my son really would OWN the car. But the night
was about running around with your friends as much as it was about the race
(as it should be) so he wasn't too disappointed. I was about to call my
son so we could leave for home when I was approached by the father who I had
helped work with his son in my shop. His son was busy running with the
others, so it was he who showed me the first place trophy his son had won.
I don't know how they did it, but that's not important. He again thanked me
not only for the opportunity of having he and his son work in my shop, but
for whatever my sons and I did to bring them together so they could work.
Over the years my sons and I have made many things together, which, for me,
is a great source of pride which I enjoy looking back on. In that same
league, I still remember the combined look of pride and gratitude that other
father's that night and I tuck that away with my mental trophys.
Sometimes it's more than a race....
Bill Leonhardt
Bill Leonhardt wrote:
> (Snip of heartwarming tale of healing and triumph.)
> Over the years my sons and I have made many things together, which, for me,
> is a great source of pride which I enjoy looking back on. In that same
> league, I still remember the combined look of pride and gratitude that other
> father's that night and I tuck that away with my mental trophys.
>
> Sometimes it's more than a race....
>
> Bill Leonhardt
Thanks, Bill, it's a good story. I hope I can share a few tools and a
tip or two now that my boy has graduated from pine cars.
DonkeyHody
"I'd rather expect the best from people and be wrong than expect the
worst and be right."
You know, that brings back memories of my own Pinewood Derby. It's a
mixed blessing.
On my Dad's advice, I worked very hard to move the center of gravity to
the front of the car. It was, at least back then, within the rules. I
hollowed-out the standard issue blank and then put lead weight up front
over the front axle.
But Dad kept insisting that the weights would hold in place with
friction, and didn' t need to be glued.
So, of course, I was 3 feet in the lead when the damn weights fell out
on the flat and ground the car to a halt.
At the time I was seriously bummed for losing. Today (37 or so years
later) I remain a LITTLE bummed that he didn't LISTEN to me.
But nowadays I have a very warm, fuzzy memory of such an incredibly
public demonstration of the very first time that I WAS RIGHT AND DAD
WAS WRONG!
I have a great deal of respect for the Old Man, but I confess to a deep
satisfaction whenever I can catch him out. It isn't often.
Bill
On Tue, 20 Dec 2005 14:32:06 -0500, "Bill Leonhardt"
<[email protected]> wrote:
>Some 20 years ago, my sons were scouts and participating in the Pinewood
>Derby. I had a meager shop and agreed to host several scouts there to have
>them work on their car kits. Dads were invited, too. I had enough files,
>rasps, coping saws sandpaper and paint to share around.
>
>
>Over the years my sons and I have made many things together, which, for me,
>is a great source of pride which I enjoy looking back on. In that same
>league, I still remember the combined look of pride and gratitude that other
>father's that night and I tuck that away with my mental trophys.
>
>Sometimes it's more than a race....
>
>Bill Leonhardt
Indeed. You are indeed a gentleman. The world needs more of them.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.
===========================================================================
Chris