Best Dad in the Galaxy last-minute gluing

derby cars for those with mishaps.

And he is, perhaps.

I, on the way other hand,

bolted a cabinet hinge

to a spray painted wedge

and called it a day.

Sure, I watched a Youtube

suggesting science, so it was

half-heartedly hammered together.

But the point wasn’t for me

to take physics for the third time.

Nor was it for James to lose

a finger.

So I did my best, sort of, since

the bandsaw was stuck in storage

and sanding is so messy.

I mean, we did our best.

A kid wearing a bad haircut and a canteen

comes over and I don’t flinch,

having been to enough pack meetings.

But I’m still a little nervous that  

fuzzy science will fail us miserably,

assuming spare cabinet hinges

undermine aerodynamics and underwhelm

other dads, who pretend to be disinterested

as the race is about to begin.

But none of us are.

Once the action starts, almost

everyone’s on their feet. One car breaks,

and the delay is longer than rules allow,

but I could care less since it wasn’t ours.

Two minutes turns to ten,

and these guys really are earning

their t-shirt boasts. Another couple of

races, and all I can see now is asses

of moms and dads in glasses,

and I’m pretty sure science lost by a lot

in the one race I’d seen

between some legs, or maybe

science was sabotaged. By me.

Next year, I’ll just bless a block

of wood with holy water and wave

goodbye to science.

That, or the bandsaw and sandpaper.