No Time for Losers.

As soon as I'd crossed the finish line in a victorious blaze of glory, Queen's 'We are the Champions' began playing on an instant loop in my brain.

I knew that I had redeemed myself from all those failed attempts at successfully maneuvering any type of motorized vehicle in the world's vast assortment of video games.

Here, while camping with my family up Hobble Creek Canyon I had finally triumphed.

Here, surrounded by dense undergrowth and a babbling stream I had fulfilled the means of my creation.

Here, three times around a blacktop loop at the dead end of a deserted campground I had gained personal fulfillment, laud and honor.

And it was all thanks to the scooter race to rue all scooter races.

Let me take you back...

'Da Twinneh', Gem and I sat around our fire pit while the exorbitant sun shone down through gaps in the trees and smoldering logs spewed noxious gases directly into our eyes.

"I hate broccoli monkeys, I hate broccoli monkeys, I hate broccoli monkeys." Gem repeated as it continued to spiral her head.

We did our best to ignore her.

"Wanna race me on the scooters?" 'Da Twinneh' suddenly brightened, sitting upright.

"Yah!", I enthusiastically responded in such a way as to surprise everyone, including myself.

Instantly, the possibility of bodily harm triggered Mom's paranoia sensors. As if it were from a invisible portal amidst the trees, she appeared instantly.

"Oh no ya' don't!" she declared, "I've bandaged way to many wound from such tom-foolery!"

"Cool it, ma." we re-assured her, "We'll be safe. Promise."

We jumped up excitedly, dragging the rusty play toys of our childhood behind us.

"Woah!..." Gem enthused while turning in wobbly circles, "It's even harder than I remember left footed!"

Mom, followed closely by Dad, decided to observe the action close-up, ever on hand in the event of some strange freak accident. She stood at the start line, passively wagging one hand in the air.

"No!" I challenged detestedly, "You have to stand like Cha Cha Digregorio at the beginning of the big race at the end of the movie Grease."

She leaned one hip and a good part of the same leg ever so slightly to the side.

"Give it a little attitude!?", I begged.

"Wait, wait!" Gem interrupted, "What's the finish line?"

"Uhh..." I scrambled, looking frantically for an object that could serve such a purpose, "How about the first one to touch Dad, wins!"

"What, you wanna kill him???", 'Da Twinneh' questioned incredulously.

"Right, right." I conceded, "Probably not my best idea."

"And what about rules?", she added.

"No cheap shots!", Gem demanded, clearly having no experience in the subject.

Eventually, we came to consensus that, above all, we would strive to maintain civilized decorum and maintain the rules of good sportsmanship.

"Oh, and you may want to hold your breath around the backside of that outhouse." I suggested, "It smells like death back there."

All agreed gratefully.

In the meantime, our aged parents dozed where they stood.

"Marks. Get sets. GO!" Mom yelled, dramatically flailing her arms behind her.

Which brings us back to the present.

"Ha, ha!" I laughed exultantly, "I could just feel the wind in my hair as I crossed that finish line."

"Little did you know, I was that wind." Gem boasted from her spot of shame among the leaves, "I was so fast, you didn't even see me win."

Truth was, she had given up mid-lap 2.

"I can't believe you won." 'Da Twinneh' whined incredulously, "It doesn't make any sense."

"Yah!" Gem piped in, "How is that even possible??"

"Hey!" I verbally assaulted them, "Stranger things have happened!"

The thrill of victory had been lost on Mom.
"You guys wanna go for a walk?" she asked.

We looked from side to side at each other.

"We'll go for a 'scoot' with you." we grinned cheesily.

As we progressed down the trail, each of us took turns circling Mom, racing to the front or demonstrating our best jumps.

Suddenly, a war cry filled the air.

"Duh-dun. Duh-dun-duh-dun. DUN. DUN.", 'Da Twinneh' recited in her most ominous 'Jaws' theme music tone all the while darting towards me.

In a moment of sheer panic, I held out my arm and cringed as a last effort to stop, or at least deter, her impending attack.

The next thing I knew, she was lying face first on the pavement, legs twisted around the scooter in a gruesome display. Motionless.

"Ah!!!" Mom shrieked, her worst fears confirmed as she shot to her side, "Are you okay!!??"

Unfortunately, this concern was lost amid the uncontrollable laughter seeping from our very beings.

"Wait, wait! Don't move!" I gasped while pulling out my flip-phone, "I've just got to document this moment!"

(Notice Gem's pointing, jeering finger.)

Suddenly, the lump of flesh began to revive. This, noticeable, due to mumbling half-sentences interrupted by hyperventilation and random wailing.

"AOoww..." she moaned, rolling over, "Why'd you have to go and do THAT?"

"I'm sorry!" I prickled offensively, "Clothes-lining you was my only defense mechanism!"

"But you didn't have to completely flatten me." she protested while dusting the dirt from her knees.

"I fully expected you to successfully dodge me! If you were quicker on the scoot, then we wouldn't have this problem." I sneered.

Much playful bickering ensued. Followed by false injury charges and a quick inspection to garnish a 'no damage done' report.

(The liar tried to convince us that this was from our little 'scooter' incident.

We later came to know that it was a carpet burn that had been incurred a week earlier during an arm wrestling match. Pansy.)

After slowly limping back to camp, we once again willingly settled around the fire to inhale ridiculous amounts of smoke and lazily stare into the black embers.

I was roused from my reverie only for a brief moment as I watched Mom slowly stroll on non-chalantly, her hoodie hanging like a shawl about her shoulders.

*Update*: 'Da Twinneh' totally deserved what she got.

My designated, self-labeled plastic cup (waste not, want not)
started of like this...

And ended up like this...

Hmm... Who coulda' done it?...

But no worries.

To add insult to injury, I later schooled the offending party in a Nerts Battle til' the Death.

That's right. Final score: Corinner-Elly, 255. 'Da Twinneh', 168.

Oooooh... What Now?

Yayh.