~“Wounds that never heal”~

Published: Thursday, March 14, 2013 at 09:36 AM.

It doesn’t make a lick of sense.  It didn’t then and it still doesn’t.

Yes, I came in second in the group of the five fastest cars. It was by about a half a car length.  Daddy told me it was going to happen.  He knew race cars and had the orange and black car that would win pegged when we first showed up with my meticulously painted, slick and aerodynamic red, white and blue masterpiece.

Daddy looked at me and said, “That boy’s daddy works at the sawmill, I’m going to tell you right now that thing’s going run like greased lightning.”  Daddy was a drag racer, he called things what they were – when times were tough, he didn’t hold back.

Therefore, I have to continue living, knowing I was cheated, wronged and denied my second place red ribbon.

It is hard to take, particularly in March, when all the younger guys at work start drawing designs on the chalkboard for their sons and daughters Pinewood Derby and Powder Puff Derby cars.  These guys design rockets, satellites and really cool stuff.  I want to help to them, but I just can’t.

The wounds are too deep.

One of my new students asked me if class would always be this entertaining.  I told him, “I will make no promises other than I will never cheat you out of second place.”

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