The Grass Sled Gift

HEIDELBERG, Vic. - The last days of the summer holidays announce a return to drudgery and routine, but there is still one event on the box racing calendar that brings hope to boys’ hearts: The Grass Sled Gift. In unseasonably damp conditions, Phil was the surprise benefactor of a mechanical mishap, taking the 1978 Gift and associated bragging rights into the Autumn school term.

After three heats it was all square. Michael, Phil, and Tim, with one win each, stood at the crest of the hill grasping their appliances: the sturdiest cardboard boxes they could find. A late summer shower had left the playing field clammy, and by now the boxes were looking less like powerful projectiles and more like the sodden pulp you might find discarded behind the local greengrocer. The last heat would be a test of survival not athletic prowess.

Half way down Tim pulled clear, with only a small tussock standing between him and the final advantage. But at the pivotal moment, when a jag to the left would see him over the line, his box betrayed him. The front panel came adrift in his hands, and he hurtled to a deflating halt, and could only watch as Phil and then Michael sailed past. Another year of grass sledding was over for them all.