I heard a story about my dad today that I've never heard before. (Gosh, it sort of sounds like I'm talking about him as if he's dead. No worries - he's not!) I tend to assume that I know everything about my parents. Apparently I don't.
Alex had gone go-carting at a birthday party yesterday. So Mom brought up how Dad had wall-to-wall trophies from all his go-cart racing days. My Dad? Really? I looked to my father who was nodding with what I think is his half-smile.
So then Dad told us how his father would engineer go-carts that couldn't lose: by tearing apart a six-horsepower single motor on the kitchen table, scrupulously cleaning each working part until the machine was more than merely a go-cart, and finally training his son how to wisely maneuver corners so no one could beat him in any class. Imagine the disbelief when 30-year old men were losing to a 14-year old chap. (Although, Dad admitted there was one guy he could never beat. Everyone has his nemesis.)
"So, were you scared when you raced?" Cole asked my dad.
"Every time," Dad answered without batting an eye.
But when Dad started talking about the "unsponsored" drag racing that occurred later in his teenage years, he didn't mention any fear. And once after coming home from being sorely defeated from a race on his 45 Harley (and assuming he had outsmarted his Dad by not letting him know of his extra-curricular racing activities), his father asked him, "Well, how'd you do?" You might be able to hide stuff from your children, but it's hard to pull one over a keen parent.
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| Mom and Dad in Oahu |
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