A race to the finish line

Abracadabra!

What began as an ordinary 7-inch block of soft pinewood was magically transformed into a sleek pinewood derby model car — a masterpiece of creativity and craftsmanship — over the course of a single weekend at the beginning of October.

Harry Houdini, eat your heart out!

Shortly after whittling the chunk of malleable wood at both ends with a newly purchased pocket-knife — from birthday money received in the waning weeks of summer — this rookie racer painted the aerodynamic speedster his favorite shade of royal blue before adding plastic wheels with attached axles; whereupon he placed lead weights underneath to maximize its speed and weight distribution.

Armed with my one-of-a-kind road runner, I was primed and ready to dominate the competition!

Not long after moving up the ranks from Pioneers to Trailblazers in the Royal Rangers hierarchy at the beginning of junior high, I was on cloud nine when Senior Commander William “Bill” Arkwright — who also doubled as both the Trailblazers and Trail Rangers commander — announced there would be a Sectional Pinewood Derby at Wampum Assembly of God the following month.

As the room buzzed with unmistakable excitement, a spark of curiosity ignited within me; and little did I know this simple race would turn into an unforgettable adventure, which would last long after the contentious tournament ended.

My heart raced with adrenaline at the thought of winning one of those groovy trophies that would be given out for each grade-level category.

Why don’t we make this contest a little more lucrative than just winning a shiny gold-plated Pinewood Derby statuette?

“That sounds like a stellar idea, Jimbo,” assessed Dirk Arkwright with wheels spinning in his head as he came up with the perfect pitch to offer his intrigued counterparts. “If all 10 of us each chip in $5, the winner among us will receive $50 in cold hard cash; and they would have epic bragging rights until next year’s competition.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” this group of would-be gamblers stated collectively.

I had visions of dollar bills dancing about my head!

Immediately after our mid-week Royal Rangers meeting in the bowels of the giant edifice, adorned with stained glass windows concluded, I made a quick exit out the side door making a beeline over to the church parsonage prior to scampering up the enclosed L-shaped staircase to my sleeping quarters on the second floor; after which I promptly busted into my piggy to fish out a crisp five dollar bill.

It was a calculated decision.

Since there was no doubt as to who was going to win the $25 first prize for the youth hoagie sale at the end of the month, I would still be $20 richer even if this Pinewood Derby gamble didn’t pan out; but if I win the $50 booty, I’d have 75 smackeroonies to my name — a total windfall.

Except for the times I ended up in the hospital for orthopedic leg surgery and facial reconstruction after hitting a tree while sled riding, I’ve never seen so much money in my whole entire life.

I’d be just like Daddy Warbucks!

By the time this mild-mannered seventh -grader hopped into the Arkwright’s bright orange suburban with all the other Trailblazers and Trail Rangers for the short excursion to Wampum, he had adrenaline flowing through his veins, ready to race to the finish line as they made the short trek to the next town five miles away on the opposite side of the Beaver River.

Let’s get this show on the road!

“That’s a nifty-looking racer,” noted the Riverside high schooler, flashing his pearly whites while inspecting every square inch of my Pinewood Derby hot rod with a fine-tooth comb. “Considering this is your first attempt at creating a racing prototype, this is definitely one of the most unique designs that I’ve seen in a long time; but it’s very lightweight even with the cylindrical weights underneath.”

“Feast your eyes on this bad boy,” interjected David “Huck” Allen, expressing a great deal of enthusiasm when reaching over the back seat to flaunt his work of art. “If you wanna run with the big boys, you’re gonna have to step up your game to the next level; otherwise, you’re gonna get left in the dust at the end of the racetrack.”

We’ll see who wins the loot, because it ain’t over until the fat lady sings!

As soon as our Royal Rangers outpost arrived at Wampum Assembly of God at the other end of Main Street, the atmosphere in the church basement was electric with race cars of all shapes and sizes – each a testament to hours of dedication and creativity — lining the tables; and the buzz of excitement was palpable as participants eagerly awaited their turn on the track once the competition started.

The moment of truth had finally arrived.

Once my aerodynamic speedster — which was poised for action — was sitting on the track with several other opponent’s miniature-sized vehicles, the sleek pinewood derby model cars zoomed down the incline toward the finish line some thirty-eight feet away following an electrifying countdown and a swift release at the starting gate.

As the crowd’s exuberant cheers blurred into a deafening roar, I fixated on my road runner, praying that it would hold its speed until the very end of the hotly contested race; but despite a fierce performance, victory eluded me as my uniquely shaped horseless carriage came in fourth place.

However, the thrill of the competition was undeniable.

Next up, the older boys’ race.

With tension in the air, it was an explosive start as their meticulously crafted automobiles shot down the wooden track — neck and neck — and the crowd was on the edge of their seats with eyes glued to the finish line.

In a matter of seconds, one car — belonging to the Huckmeister — edged ahead, breaking through the imaginary tape to claim victory and a $50 payday.

Meanwhile, a soloist was practicing her sheet music for the Sunday morning service in the upstairs sanctuary.

“Hark, I do believe that fat lady’s singing?” quipped the Lincoln High School sophomore with a Cheshire Cat grin splashed across his face.