Monday, September 19, 2011

No Go Kart

One year my dad took all of us to a pig roast.  Sure, the food was great, but the thing I remembered most about the party was an awesome go cart.  All the older kids got to drive it.  It rocked...

It was this crudely constructed car powered by a small motor...Top speed maybe 20 miles per hour.  I loved it. I was sorry to leave it the end of the night...but I became resolute in creating my own.

An initial but ever so slight problem was my lack of a gas powered motor.  But not to worry, that's why we have hills, right?  My dad was kind enough to give me a nice piece of plywood that would serve as the base.  I also took wheels off an old red wagon...

My dad was generous enough to help me create a swiveling steering mechanism by attaching the front wheels to a 2x4 that was in turn loosely screwed to my base (plywood).  I then took two old and frayed jump ropes and attached each one to the side of the 2x4...with a nail.  Genius.  I'd hold them like reins and pull left or right depending on where I'd prefer to turn...

But what to do for braking?  Not a problem.  I found an old metal pipe in the basement.  Tied it to the side of my car.  I'd just lower the pipe and apply pressure to the asphalt.  I know what you're thinking..."Jesus Christ she's smart."  I thought so.

My brother saw my cart and really loved it.  Then it dawned on the age of zero bike helmets and safety gear I didn't want to crack my walnut on the trial run...So I said, "It's pretty cool huh?  Say, you really like it?  I'll tell you what, how about YOU drive it first?  What do you think?"

Needless to say, my brother was surprised and thrilled at my generous offer.  Before he could change his mind, I pulled my car to tallest hill in my neighborhood.  Got him all settled on the plywood and gave a brief tutorial on operation of my car..."Pull left to go left.  Pull right to go right.  Lower the pipe to stop.  Got it?  Good."

I gave him a quick shove and watched as he sailed impressively down our street.  I saw him struggle to remember which rope to pull...then I'm guessing he was pretty terrorized going fast because he reached for the brake (metal pipe)....

It was at this moment I discovered the design flaw of my car.  You see, in order to pull the brake, you had to release the right jump rope.  Damn...I didn't think of that.  Neither did my brother as he turned a hard left and crashed into a brick mailbox while dragging the useless piece of shit pipe brake that was supposed to save him from the very fate I feared.  And didn't want to experience.

Which is why I was glad he was dumb enough to do the trial run.

Outta here!

No comments:

Post a Comment