Lessons in peculiar places

In an attempt to relive a childhood memory, I purchased a K'NEX rollercoaster set for my 4-year-old son. (On an unrelated note and to my dismay, this toy I owned as a child could only be found on eBay...labeled "antique"...)

When it arrived, I passionately tore open the box and began the 6-hour process of assembly. Not to any surprise, my son's interest lasted the first 30-minutes but, let's be frank; we all knew this was more an act of self-preservation than it ever was to be conceived a father-of-the-year move. Tired, with a sore neck and back, the little orange cart made it's maiden voyage close to midnight the same evening. It raced down the hill, my childish anticipation growing, only to lose momentum in the loop, tumbling in reverse. Ultimately the cart settled at the lowest point—as did my excitement. (To my chagrin and your relief, I'll note it's likely a good thing I make a living merging relationships and technologies for customers and am not a mechanical engineer.)

Deflated, I rifled through the manual I had only half consulted during setup and noted there were several opportunities to smooth the track, twist flexible pieces to create better inertia, and even totally ignore part of the instructions, refactoring the toy to create more slope and speed. Two-in-the-morning rolled around and my coaster cart had yet to make it's way around the track and, in fact; looked even worse for the wear. With working looming the next morning, I vowed to come back and try again.

The next available evening (with still very little interest from my son), I decided to rip off the entire track section and consult the repetitive, seemingly too-simple-to-screw-up, 30 pages of guidance specifically for installing the track. I painstakingly made sure each green connector beneath the track was spaced perfectly. I mimicked the exact twists, turns, slope, and pitch from the pictures in the manual to the parts in my hands.

Certain that I had spent another two hours ripping off the track I had first installed, then putting it back the exact same way, I watched again as the coaster crawled it's way up the hill and began plummeting back to earth. Almost in preparation for another failure, I racked my brain on what I would do this time when it—surely—failed again. That is, until the antique cart, on the antique track, looped around the antique loop.

Pleased, I showed my son. He was less than impressed. Apparently these things aren't considered as cool as they use to be.

Honestly, only after the completed coaster had been sitting in my living room for over a week, did I come to several realizations that aren't necessarily groundbreaking by any sense of the imagination, but I'm certainly happy I was reminded of these lessons in such a peculiar place.

1. Slow down. Even when you're passionate.
2. Regardless of your age or experience, we all need to read the directions every once in a while.
3. The devil is in the details.
4. Repair as you might, sometimes you have to start over.
5. Never call a toy "antique". You're likely insulting someone.