PINEWOOD DERBY MEMORY
Mikey at the Lube
It looked extremely rocky for Mike's pinewood car that day.
The car did not look speedy as it ran its opening race.
And as Mike sat and sadly watched his car lose in a rout,
A pallor wreathed the features of this young and trusty scout.
His folks almost got up to go, they'd given up all hope.
"But no," they thought, "We can't quit now. Our son is not a dope."
They thought if only Mike would think to lubricate his wheels...
They'd put up even money, then, that he could beat the field.
But Mikey's Dad, you see, his brain was often on vacation.
He'd neglected to discuss with Mike the need for lubrication.
So for Mike's parents hope of pinewood glory seemed afar,
For there was little chance of Mikey lubing up his car.
When suddenly young Mikey sprinted fast along the floor.
He crashed into the donut stand, he bounced into a door.
He caromed toward a window, and rebounded across the room.
And now Mikey, clever Mikey, was advancing toward the "lube".
There was ease in Mikey's manner as he lubed his car with grace,
There was pride in Mikey's bearing, a smile on Mikey's face.
And as he took his dirty hands and wiped them on his pants,
Dad said to Mom, "Can you clean those?" And Mom replied, "Fat chance!"
Then from Mike's gladdened parents, there went up a joyous cheer.
It rattled off the ceiling, it echoed far and near.
It rumbled through the spectators, annoying half the place,
For Mikey, and his pinewood car, were getting set to race.
Two hundred eyes were on him as he staged his car on the track.
One hundred voices giggled as he tripped when he stepped back.
And as the official starter set the starting line to trip,
Defiance glanced in Mikey's eye, a sneer curled Mikey's lip.
Now down the pinewood derby track the cars unheeded sped.
Mike's parents shouted loudly as their son's car forged ahead.
And when the dust had lifted at the finish of the heat,
Mike raised his fists in triumph as his car won by two feet!
Thrice more Mike's car ran down the track, thrice more it led the way.
The crowd was now behind him, they thought he would win the day.
And when the heats were over and they totaled up the score.
Well, Mike was first, but he was tied with some kid from Den Four.
The Committee quickly huddled, they weren't sure of what to do.
'Til a Tiger Cub said, "Race 'em off! Just use lanes one and two!"
And so they raced, and Mike's car sped to victory, like a dart,
But it wouldn't count this time because the judges yelled, "False start!"
From the benches, black with people, there arose an awful din,
Like the snoring of a Webelos fast asleep inside his tent.
"Egg them! Egg the judges!", shouted someone in the stands,
And its likely they'd have egged them had not Mikey raised his hand.
With a smile of Scouting charity, young Mikey's visage shown.
He stilled the rising tumult, he bade the race go on.
He signaled to the starter, he staged his car again,
The crowd knew now that Mikey would not be denied this win.
The sneer is gone from Mikey's lip, there's fire in his belly,
Probably from pastrami he ate earlier at the deli.
And now the starter trips the gate, and now the cars go by,
And now the air is shattered as they cross the finish line.
Oh, somewhere in this favored land, the sun is shining bright.
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light.
But Mike, alas, has suffered the most shameful of disgraces,
His car has been disqualified! You have to lube BEFORE the races!
Copyright ©1997-1998 by Cory Young. All rights reserved.
Reprinted by permission
From Pinewood Derby Times Volume 7, Issue 2
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