I, however, am too dense to ever make such a claim. Sometimes anyway.
Em wanted to bring a couple of her friends to the Purple Park for a launch, and we got kind of a late start. Mo dragged her feet eating dinner and light was fading by the time we all got to the park.
And I was hooked on making the maiden voyages of my new MicroMaxx Saturn V and Shuttle.
But one thing and another. First I couldn't find the safety key. Then nothing happened. Then I read the instructions and changed a couple of things and nothing happened again.
By now it's getting late in twilight, but I have all these honyocks who wanted to see a rocket fly. And a park urchin who was also amped that I was about to fly stuff.
It's amazing the shit kids say to Rocket Man. One time a kid told me his Mom and Dad had been fighting and 'Mom said a really bad word in the garage and we have to go stay at so-and-so's house.' This evening, the kid in question asked me if I liked to cook, and when I said that I do, he said he did too. He's nine, but he's hooked on the Food Network and wants to be a chef someday.
I can't see what is wrong with that, but according to this kid his Dad told him he was a weirdo.
To which I responded, Good for you. I'm a weirdo too.
And the kid asked me on what basis I thought I was weird. Which really surprised me. Based on the typical reaction my Rodness generates, I assumed it was fairly obvious. I said, well how about I can't go to Wal-Mart this evening because my car is too full of kids and rockets?
'That just makes you awesome.'
Which made me feel pretty good. So I told him next time his Dad tells him he's weird to want to be the next Chef Ramsey, he should say, 'That just makes me awesome.'
So, after three failed attempts with the MicroMaxx, I gave up and decided to fly something I knew would go.
Since it was getting dark, and I've lost rockets before in this light, I picked Dr. Tommy. He's one of my pricier models, but he's a heavy sucker. Doesn't get real high, comes down fast under canopy.
The parachute was a bit stiff from storage, and I worked it some. Applied baby powder. It wasn't great but it was getting dark fast and I thought we were okay.
We weren't. The parachute didn't open.
Major Malfunction from Chixulub on Vimeo.
Then, after the kid who told me I was awesome found the rocket and walked a few feet with it, I asked if it had all four fins and he noticed that it didn't. I think the one that broke off is probably embedded in the ground, but as it got darker every minute, good luck finding a black fin that's mostly covered in dirt and hiding in tall grass.
The kid said he'd find my fin tomorrow and I told him I'd pay him $5 for it if he found it. A fair price. I don't have a way to make a suitable replacement fin and it was a $25 kit. If I don't get the fin back, Dr. Tommy is pretty much retired.
And I have myself to blame. If I hadn't been in such a rush, I would have prepped the parachute better. If I hadn't been so unwilling to disappoint the audience, I would have refused to fly in such low light. Basically, if I had the learning capacity of a Robert Goddard, I'd have known better than to do any of this.
Then, as I was packing up, I managed to dump the lid of the range box. Crap.
Mo had fun riding up front with the windows down, though. And Em had fun sticker her head out the back like the Joker. Or like Bill Jr., 'Pow, he was decapitated! They found his head over by the snow cone concession...' Which did make things better. Even if the girls don't know what the queers are doing to the soil.
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