April 16, 2003
Lucky 7 fortunate derby race car
By
Herald Editor
Being a husky boys Toughskin kid, I didn't win many races. My 50 yard dash time lacked motivation unless I was being chased by a rabid dog or a giddy pigtailed girl.
All that changed, however, with a block of wood, four plastic wheels and the Daytona 500 of Cub Scouts - the Pinewood Derby. On one magical night, I was Richard Petty with peach fuzz facial hair. For once in my life, I was the fast kid.
For the uninitiated, a Pinewood Derby consists of a wooden track upon which sweaty-palm boys race cars carved by dull jackknives and sharp imaginations. The cars compete against each other, gravity and the weighty expectations of a nine year old. Like life, this race has a victory lane and the pits.
This past weekend I was back at the 32 foot plywood track, covering the 2003 District Pinewood Derby in Traverse City. The smell of model paint made me miss old Lucky 7.
The year was 1979. At nine years old, I was handed a block of wood, penny nails, four plastic wheels and one daunting task - build a race car. My initial schematics envisioned Mach 5 Speed Racer meets The Munsters Koach. The rolling reality, however, resembled a square without right angles.
Beyond building something tangible, the Pinewood Derby project promoted father-son bonding. In that regard, the Crazy Glue did bring us closer together. Using all thumbs, and without losing any digits to the hand saw, dad and I built a car dubbed Lucky 7.
Unlike other father-son duos, my dad was not a MIT graduate or NASA engineer. In other words, I sawed, sanded and slopped on paint myself. We didn't have access to wind tunnels, CAD, or the General Motors engineering department. Actually, I knew someone whose father used two out of these three for a Pinewood Derby car.
Overall, Lucky 7 sported a subdued paint scheme, brick-like aerodynamics and mild manner engineering. The car was the perfect embodiment of its owner except for one small detail - it could flat out fly.
Even a mathematically challenged chap could see this car defied the laws of physics. Lucky 7 flew in the face of drag coefficient numbers with its Pablo Picasso asymmetrical design. Yet, somehow it always crossed the finish line first.
Throughout the competition, Lucky 7 deleted computer designed cars and erased pencil-thin racers. Scouts and parents crowded around the track to witness each improbable outcome. The community building hadn't been this abuzz since the last open bar wedding reception.
Like a scripted after-school TV special, the kid with the Toughskin plumber pants wins and is carried off on the shoulders of his fellow Scouts. OK, no one physically picked me up, but I felt elated. I even took home a trophy that gathered dust in the garage until someone realized it was of the traveling variety.
As with other childhood keepsakes, I'm sure old Lucky 7 is parked in a banana box in my basement. If the wheels are misaligned just right - and I can squeeze into my Cub Scout uniform - we could have a shot next year. However, I might have to shave the Richard Petty sideburns.
Grand Traverse Herald editor Garret Leiva can be reached at 933-1416.