If
it hadn’t been raining, if the recently assembled grass karts hadn’t
kept falling apart, one by one, and if the mud on the tracks hadn’t
pelted the eyes of each boy who quickly figured out that their fogged up
face shields were useless, would they boys of Burnside and
Rangiora High School have had more fun? Judging by the laughter, smiles, skidding and drifting, probably not.
Mr
Peter Merrifield, the Engineering Teacher at Burnside High School,
organised the event at a field next to the Ruapuna Raceway. It was a
Sunday morning, 22nd September. The background whine of
motorcycle races competed with the sound of grass kart engines as boys,
aged 15 to 17 sped, slalomed and spun out in a morning of drippy wet
determination.
I
sat in my car after delivering warm coffees and pies while dads helped
sons grub about for spare parts from Mr Merrifield, off disabled karts,
or even from competing teams’ resources. The spirit of cooperation
prevailed, driven on by the collective unwillingness to yield to the
weather, the knowledge that everyone was learning something, and in the
end, a pure desire to have fun.
I
learned something about karts, identity, team spirit and will power
during my morning with the boys. My son’s kart had a repeated problem
of loosing its transmission
chain. First it had issues with tension, then the gears needed to be
realigned, then tiny little parts were lost, being thrown off as the
grass kart bumped along the uneven track. At one point the classic
Number 8 wire was used to hold down a loose chain shield. When things
looked grim I suggested throwing in the towel and that the boys should
just ride around on one of the working karts for a bit of fun. I
imagined they must be miserable fussing over their temperamental kart
while other boys careened around the track with joy. My son said he
didn’t want to abandon his team to have fun while they fiddled with
wrenches and pliers in the cold. My husband said that getting their own
kart to work was half the fun. Of course I was entirely proven to be a
wuss when they eventually got their kart purring. By the time the
races started some of the apparently high performing karts were limping
with wonky steering
columns and broken parts, while my son’s teams’ kart was solid (for the
most part…).
For
over three hours, two in fairly continual rain, the grass kart
gladiators pressed on, dads standing side by side with hi-vis clad sons,
laughing and anticipating their next tweaks or repairs. With each passing hour the hi-vis yellow slowly turned from canary to brown with many laps around muddy tracks by elated boys. The
day closed with a final collaborative effort of collecting cones and
giving thanks to Mr Merrifield for inspiring the next generation of gear
heads who no doubt will accompany their own boys on similar enjoyable
outings in the future.
