Cub Scout Pinewood Derby: A Virtual Pi$$ing Match

Okay, okay. That title's a little over-the-top. I know.

But, even as a Cub Scout myself, I knew it wasn't about me, or my little Cubbie friends.

It was about the Dads.

In fact, it's ALL about the Dads.

Last night, we had what is most likely our final Pinewood Derby event, where Hayden proudly carried out our dubious, but somewhat in-your-face tradition, of getting destroyed every race.

At least his car actually made it to the finish line. There was a year... and I'm not making this up... when Nathan's car stopped halfway down the track. It didn't even make it all the way DOWN the slope.

You see, I REFUSE to make the boys' cars for them.

Why?

Because it's not about ME.

However, with that attitude, we were always doomed to fail. Because EVERYBODY ELSE CHEATS!!!

If you've ever been to one of these things, then there is no doubt that that smooth, shiny, lacquered-up Ferrari replica in Lane A was NOT crafted by a 9-year-old. Nor was the chrome-plated mini-truck with those intricately detailed flames painted on the side. Nor was that aerodynamically-fashioned ice cream-cone car...

... ALL riddled with strategically-placed lead weights.

But you can tell which one is made by my son. It has been cut once, into a slight slope, with jagged edges, painted with flat-black spray paint, a wobbly, uneven red stripe painted down the middle with Mom's nail polish, and wheels that don't spin because they're hammered in too closely to the side of the car.

Seriously.

I think they need to rethink the whole thing. Like, maybe they should devote a few pack meetings to making the cars.

NO DAD'S ALLOWED

It's simply another chest-thumping, member-measuring event where those whose Dad's have the biggest tools win.

But I'm not bitter :)