I took an Independence Day groundpound. I was enjoying the gorgeous weather when I noticed that several streets, each leading to one of the main streets, were blocked off, much as the town does when there is to be parade. I rounded the corner on the main street and saw people sitting at the curb on folding chairs, as if waiting for a parade to begin. What made this different were the bales of
hay straw (Jerry taught me the difference a while back) that lined both curbs and along the center line on the street.
Bales of straw all over the place? Not something one sees every day â€“ or ever, for that matter in these parts. I figured, â€Horses â€¦ gotta be horses somewhereâ€ Stupid, I know, but I really didnâ€™t know what to make of it â€“ farookinâ€™ straw bales? I got around to asking one of the peeps sitting in a chair by the curb.
â€œYo, whatâ€™s goinâ€™ on?â€
Not a man of many words, he replied, â€œSoapbox Derby.â€
Wow, I hadnâ€™t seen one of those since I was of single digit age. I stood by the finish line (in front of more bails of
hay straw, which were there to stop a runaway soapbox) and shot a cell phone picture of the track.
I continued walking toward the starting line and stopped long enough to snap pictures of the vehicles and the drivers in the waiting area.
It looked as if it might be a little while before the races actually started, so I continued on with the groundpound, hoping that on the return trip I might get to see a race or two.
As luck would have it, on my return trip, I saw the first race of the day go off. It was a girl driver versus a boy driver. The girl appeared to be winning, but about halfway down the hill, the boy caught and passed her. Once across the finish line, the boy applied his brakes, but the girl must have been so intent on racing that she either forgot to engage the brake or her brakes failed. In any event, she and her â€œcarâ€ went zooming full speed into two of the
hay straw bales at the end of the track. KaaaahBLAMM!!!
I was worried that kid was hurt, when I saw the bales go flying. As it turns out, her mom ran to her, and she was OK. There were a few tears, but that was because she lost the race, not because she crashed or because she was hurt.
Given the state of the economy, the rogue nations talking nukes and the toxic politics of the day, a soapbox derby was a rare and most welcome find â€“ especially on Americaâ€™s holiday.
Here are the cell phone photos.
Here’s the track. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen so much
hay straw in one place.
Here are some of the “cars.”
Here are some of the drivers preparing to rock. Unfortunately someone got in front of the “camera.” After all, I was on a groundpound, not a photo mission.
It was pretty cool.