I never wanted to go to summer school. My pappy was busy running the family business and my mother, whom I believe to be nuttles, had full command of my life.
Despite being an interesting boy from a cool family, I never liked school. But mother made me go to camp and summer school. Day camp was fun enough, but summer school? Sweet goodness with gravy!
So I chose a few courses that I thought might interest me at least a little; Rocketry and baby dragster class (I don't recall the real name).
I do not have a head for math.
I was a cool kid in a class with a bunch of nerds whom hated me without cause. We were to draw our car design on graph paper, then make a styrofoam prototype, and then a final model made of wood. With wheels and axles and all that.
I didn't know WTF I was doing. The nerds were all designing their cars together. They wanted to make the coolest looking cars that they could. And some of their models were quite the things to see.
I didn't care for the class at all. I went with a very basic dragster design. It couldn't have been more plain.
The cars were powered by Co2 cylinders in their asses. They had eye hooks underneath that a fishing line ran thru, and we raced them down the hall.
I really didn't expect much from my car, but before I knew it most of the nerd cars were eliminated and my little car was going for the gold.
The main nerd had a very sexy car. It was painted green. Mine was gold. I thought he'd beat me for sure. The championship was best out of three.
He won one, then I won one, and yes, then I won again. A most clear victory. The simpleton had beaten the nerds.
The nerds were very butt-hurt about this. They complained that we'd switched from silver co2 cartridges to green ones. They couldn't believe that they'd been bested by me.
I was given a cheap, gold colored trophy. The only trophy I've ever won.
It wasn't even made of real metal. It was gold colored plastic. I bent it and broke it and tried to blow it up and set it on fire. I did the same thing with my car.