Alright guys, buckle up ’cause today I finally tackled tape derby racing after putting it off forever. Figured I’d share my whole mess from opening the darn box to actually finishing a race. No fancy talk here, just how it went down in my garage.
Grabbing Stuff & Winging It
First off, I dug out that cheap tape derby starter kit collecting dust in my closet. Ripped open the box – parts flying everywhere naturally. Found the instructions folded up smaller than a napkin, already knew that wasn’t gonna cut it. Grabbed whatever junk seemed useful nearby:
- A busted old yardstick (for straight lines)
- Some painter’s tape (blue, ’cause why not)
- Kitchen scissors with sticky handles
- Penny from 1999 I found under the couch
Building the Track Like a Sleep-Deprived Dad
Slapped my wobbly kitchen table against the wall. Measured roughly a track lane width with the yardstick, eyeballed it twice and prayed. Stuck that blue tape down in what I thought was a straight line – spoiler, it wasn’t. Did this for two lanes, sweating over bubbles and crooked edges. Taped down pennies as lane markers near the finish line ’cause the kit ones vanished. Total time? Felt like an hour, clock said 20 minutes.
Assembling That Little Racer
Opened the kit car bag. Tiny plastic pieces all over the place. Wheels felt cheap and gritty. Axles? Fiddly as heck. Shoved those axles through the body slots – needed to muscle ’em through a bit with my stupid thumb. Popped the wheels on. One kept wobbling like a drunk. Gave the car a test shove on the table… veered hard left every dang time. Twisted that wobbly axle a bit by hand, pressed the wheel tighter. Still pulled left but less awful. Good enough, screw it.
Race Time (Spoiler: Several False Starts)
Placed my derby beast at the starting line. Drew a stupid fat pencil mark on the table behind the back wheels – my “official” start point. Tried the “proper” thumb-push technique from the leaflet. Car jumped the tape immediately. Tried gentle finger flicks next. Car stalled halfway. Got mad and just pushed the sucker flat-fingered like a shuffleboard puck. FINALLY got mostly-straight run on the third angry shove. Watched it crawl past my penny finish line. Hooted like an idiot. Did it five more times ’til it didn’t crash at least twice per attempt. Called that “race ready.”
Whole thing was messier than a soup sandwich, but hey – it rolled eventually. Your first time ain’t gotta be perfect, just gotta actually start.