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Crafty Part Deux-The Big Reveal

03 Oct

I’ve never done any formal research into key-word searches, but from the amount of traffic I’ve received over the last two days, mentioning anything related to Star Wars does the trick. So this post includes Star Wars references, contextually appropriate or not.  Fair Warning.

In the midst of clearing off his plate after dinner, without being asked, James finally let us know what he desires most in the world for his Birthday.  No, it is not a Yoda action figure. What he wants, will come as no surprise to those that know Tim well.  

For those that don’t,  Tim is a dyed-in-the-wool car enthusiast.  He started messing with cars as a teenager, was a mechanic for many years, is building a car from scratch, and loves Formula 1 racing. When we were all waiting in line to watch Empire Strikes Back, he was rebuilding his Camaro’s engine.  He married me, I think, in part because I grew up around cars.  When I wasn’t going to see Return of the Jedi, I was used to going to car shows, and to having car parts tucked away in my closet.  I could tolerate the lifestyle. 

Before we knew that we were having a boy, we took a trip to Italy, when I was about 5 months along.  Because Tim is such a huge Formula 1 fan, I agreed to take a detour on our drive from Venice to Florence to stop at the Ferrari factory in Marinello.  Tim had promised me that the restaurant at the factory was excellent, and I was sold.  Anyway, we just happened to be there on the day that the F1 racing team was practicing.  James would start kicking furiously every time the race car passed, the sound was incredible, it literally shook my body.  The heavens might as well parted and light shone down on my belly because Tim took this as a sign that a racer was part of our future. 

Tim has been trying to subtly influence James since the day he found out that we were having a boy.  Matter of fact, on the day we found out that our peanut had all the required male parts, the doctor, an Italian, told us that he too was  a huge fan of Ferrari and Michael Schumacher.  Tim’s fears about becoming a father, were soothed that day.

Tim’s campaign to get our son interested in cars has been subtle.  He started out by decorating James’s room with vintage racing posters,  no scantily clad Princes Leia trash for our boy, nope.  Well, not unless there are posters of her driving a rally car.  After James was  born, Tim started taking our wee baby to the Vintage Races, to auto-cross with his brother, we even attended the filming of Pinks.  While touring the pits, Tim would ask if James could sit in the cars and since our boy is a cutie patutie the answer was frequently yes.  When placed on the seat of a race car, James would grasp the steering wheel with one tiny hand, the place the other on the shifter, and this was before he popped his first tooth. The portents were strongly indicating that all of the Jedi mind tricks that Tim had been using were working.

You can't see the other hand, but let me assure you it is indeed on the shifter.

Tim has never once said “son, I want you to race.”  So imagine his pleasure when James finally revealed what his heart had been yearning for.  He asked his Daddy to build him, notice he didn’t ask to buy one, but to build a go-cart.  A real one, that can go around a track, the kind that has an engine.  One that he can race. 

Tim – I wrote this for you.  It has been a fabulous 16 years.  Hugs and Kisses baby.

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3 Comments

Posted by on October 3, 2010 in Doin'

 

3 responses to “Crafty Part Deux-The Big Reveal

  1. unmitigated me (m.a.w.)

    October 3, 2010 at 5:16 pm

    In another couple of years, we’ll have a big new Racing in America exhibit up at the museum where I work. And then you will come visit Detroit, and I will get you in for free. And what happy boys they will be!

    Like

     
  2. Captain Dumbass

    October 13, 2010 at 6:49 am

    Congrats, Tim. And impressive way to increase page hits.

    Like

     
  3. Lizgizzy

    October 13, 2010 at 9:56 am

    It didn’t work, maybe I need to through in some refercenes to sex instead.

    Like

     

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