Each year the Awana club that Pippa and Romilly go to holds a “grand prix” car race instead of club one Wednesday night.  The 3-4 year old “Cubbies”  are (wisely) excluded from the competition, so this was our first year to get involved now that Pippa is in the “Sparks” age group.

To be honest, I hadn’t given the whole thing a moment’s thought until a couple weeks ago when we dropped the girls off and there was a table full of “car kits” available for $5 each.  I saw some pictures of last year’s race.  Clearly some kids had gone all out, but there were also plenty that were just decorated blocks of wood on wheels.  That, I thought, we could probably manage.

We paid our $5 and I had an inkling of a thought at the back of my mind: Maybe I’ll even call my dad and see if he wants to help.

The Sunday before race day rolled around, and Trevor asked, “Are you going to call your dad?”  I called, and he happened to be free that afternoon, so we bundled the gang into the van and made our way over with our $5 block of wood and wheels.

This will be great, I thought.  My dad, a builder, will have the tools to cut a car shape for Pippa, then during the week we can decorate it.  She’ll paint it pink and purple with lots of flowers.  Maybe there will be stickers or glitter, hearts, bunnies, ponies – whatever she wants.  The sky’s the limit!  We’ll have fun just participating in the whole event.   It’s not about winning, after all.

Clearly, I have never met my dad.

I should have known I was in trouble when the first words out of his mouth when introduced to the block of wood and wheels were, “I wish you could have gotten two of these!”  Still he was acknowledging that this block of wood with wheels was Pippa’s, not his to turn into a ’57 Corvette or whatever other car he’s dreamed of owning since he was eleven years old.  This was hers.

Perhaps the photos, in chronological order, best show the chain of events from that moment on.

Scene 1: The designer at work.

Scene 2: Carved by Pop-pop, now to add the details.

Scene 3: Solo painting... for now.

Scene 4: "Here, let me just..."

Scene 5: "Why don't I just..."

Scene 6: The Master, happily at work.

To be fair, the only thing that Pippa felt strongly about was painting a little person inside the car, which she did (though Pop-pop touched it up with black paint afterward to create a neck).  The red was also her choice.

The tapered nose, headlights, taillights, hatchback rear window, lubricated axles, and *dual exhaust* were not so much her ideas, but then, she didn’t object either.

On the night, Pippa was very focused on winning.  I was mentally preparing myself for lengthy philosophical discussions about the importance of showing love to the winner and celebrating with them.  We were going to lose cheerfully and be thankful for a fun night surrounded by family and friends.

Until she started winning.  And winning.   And winning.  Pippa’s car was raced seven times and won five of its races.  It was nuts.  My dad was like a school boy.

At first we thought she had placed, but in the end, she narrowly missed getting one of the trophies.  We’re pretty sure she came in 4th place out of about 30 cars.  I was thankful for the defeat, lest next year’s Grand Prix be a set-up for major disappointment and drama, but I was thrilled for my little girl to go home smiling and feeling like she had done really well, and *almost* won.

As for pop-pop, after an evening of talking shop with all the other Grand Prix dads, I’m pretty sure he has a master plan for next year’s car.  And I don’t mind if it wins, as long as it can have pink flowers all over it.